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^i\t |Cakc ^n0ltslj Classics 



REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY 



SELECTED POEMS 

BY 

ROBERT BURNS 

AND 

ESSAY ON BURNS 

BY 

THOMAS CARLYLE 



EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE 

BY 

GEORGE L. MARSH 

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO 



SCOIT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

CHICACO NKW YORK 



)'S- 



^ 






Copyright. 1920 
SCOTT, FORESMAN AND OOINCPANi 



CCr !4 /920 



ROBERT O. LAW COMPANY 

EDITION BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
CHICAGO. U.S.A. 

g)CU601231 



^ ' PREFACE 

a 

^The purpose of this volume is to present adequate 
material for appreciation of the best poems of Burns, 
and for an understanding of Carlyle's estimate of Burns. 
Carlyle^s famous essay, starting ostensibly as a book 
review and passing into a general discussion of the 
works and personality of Burns, naturally assumes a 
certain familiarity with the poet on the part of his 
readers. The primary business, then, of the Introduc- 
tion (pages 9-27) is to supply students who have not 
this assumed familiarity, with the proper background 
for understanding and appreciating the poems here 
selected and Carlyle's essay as comment on both the 
poems and the poet. 

The first consideration in choosing poems for the 
volume was to include as many as possible of those 
mentioned by Carlyle; but a number of important ones 
which he happened not to discuss have been added in 
order to make the collection thoroughly representative. 
The customary division into ^Toems" and '^Songs'' is 
retained, but within each of these main classes the 
arrangement is approximately chronological. When 
exact dates are not known, related poems are placed 
together. 

The text of the selections from Burns, while not 
differing materially from so-called ^'standard'' texts, 
has really been made anew in details for this volume, 
by comparison of the editions issued during Burns^s life 
and various facsimiles of manuscripts inBurns^s hand. 
The text of the Carlvle essav is tliat which the author 



4 PREFACE 

approved for his collected works, differing in some 
particulars from the essay as it originally appeared in 
the Edinburgh Review (1828). 

Scottish words are defined in footnotes, and the num- 
ber of these is made as small as possible on the assump- 
tion that study of the section of the Introduction on 
the dialect (pages 24-27) will enable the reader to 
recognize most words which differ from ordinarj^ 
English in spelling only. In addition to this definition 
of Scottish words at the foot of the page, matter calling 
for more extended annotation is treated in notes near 
the end of the volume (pages 305-326), and passages 
so annotated are indicated by an *. An effort has 
been made to identify all passages quoted by Carlyle, 
but a few have eluded search. 

The volume is completed by an appendix containing 
helps for teachers and by a comprehensive index that 
includes the Scottish words defined on the pages of the 
text, as well as the principal topics presented in the 
introduction, the text of both poems and essay, and 
notes. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 3 

Introduction 
Robert Burns 

Historical Background 9 

Burns's Life U 

Burns's Works 18 

Scottish Dialect in Burns ' 23 

Burns's Rimes 27 

Thomas Carlyle 

Life 28 

Carlyle's Works and Influence 32 

The Essay on Burns 36 

Bibliography 38 

Selected Poems 

The Death and Djdng Words of Poor Mailie 41 

Poor MaiUe's Elegy 44 

Man Was Made to Moiu-n — A Dirge 46 

Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet 49 

Second Epistle to Davie 55 

Epistle to J. Lapraik 57 

Epistle to William Simpson [ 63 

Holy Willie's Prayer 68 

Epistle to the Rev. John McMath 72 

The Holy Fair 76 

Halloween 85 

To a Mouse ^04 

The Jolly Beggars — a Cantata 97 

The Cotter's Saturday Night ;_JJJL 

The Auld Farmer's New- Year Morning Salutation to 

His Auld Mare, Maggie 117 

The Twa Dogs 122 

Address to the Deil 130 

Epistle to James Smith 136- 

5 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

To a Louse 143 

To a Mountain Dais.y 146 

Epistle to a Young Friend 148 

A Bard's Epitaph 152 

Address of Beelzebub 153 

Address to the Unco Guid 156 

Address to a Haggis 159 

A Winter Night 161 

Epistle to Mrs. Scott 165 

The Humble Petition of Bruar Water 168 

The Wounded Hare 171 

Epistle to Dr. Blacklock 172 

Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson 175 

Tarn o' Shanter 179 

Songs ^ 

Handsome Nell 187 

Mary Morison 188 

My Nanie, O 189 

Green Grow the Rashes 191 

Farewell Song to the Banks of Ayr 192 

The Night Was Still 193 

McPherson's Farewell 194 

Of A' the Airts the Wind Can Blaw 195 

O, Were I on Parnassus Hill . . . 196 

Auld Lang Syne 197 

My Bonie Mary 199 

Sweet Afton 200 

To Mary in Heaven. 201 

John Anderson, My Jo 202 

Tam Glen 203 

Wilhe Brew'd a Peck o' Maut 204 

Whistle o'er the Lave o't 205 

My Heart's in the Highlands 206 

The Banks o' Doon 207 

Ae Fond Kiss, and Then We Sever 208 

Bessy and Her Spinnin- Wheel 209 

When She Cam Ben She Bobbed 210 

The Deil's Awa wi' the Exciseman 211 

Saw Ye Bonie Lesley 212 



CONTENTS 7 

PAGE 

Highland Mary 213 

Duncan Gray 214 

Wandering Willie 216 

Braw Lads o' Galla Water 217 

Whistle an' I'll Come to Ye, My Lad 218 

Scots, Wha Fae 219 

A Red, Red Rose 220 

My Name's Awa 221 

The Lovely Lass o' Inverness 222 

Charlie, He's My Darling 223 

Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes 224 

Contented wi' Little and Cantie vvi' Mair 225 

Lassie wi' the Lint -white Locks ' . . 226 

A Man's a Man for A' That 227 

The Braw Wooer 220 

A Lass wi' a Tocher 231 

O Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast 232 

Carlyle's Essay on Burns 233 

Notes on Poems and Songs. 305 

Notes on the Essay on Burxs 314 

Appendix 

Helps to Study 327 

Theme Subjects 334 

Index 336 



INTRODUCTION 

ROBERT BURNS 
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND 

The life of Burns^ short though it was, covered a most 
interesting period in history. He was born a little more 
than a year before George III ascended the throne of 
England. In the year of his birth the British captured 
Quebec, and French rule in Canada virtually endecL 
During his boyhood the arbitrary policies of the British 
King — German in blood and ideals — so roused the col- 
onies on the western shore of the Atlantic that in 1775 
the American Eevolution began, and in 1776 (when 
Burns was a plowboy of seventeen) the Declaration of 
Independence stirred the world. Cornwallis surrendered 
at Yorktown in 1781; peace between the United States 
and Great Britain was concluded in 1783; and in 1789 — 
after some rather chaotic years under the Articles of 
Confederation — the American Constitution went into 
effect and Washington's presidency began. In this same 
year the spirit of liberty that was in the air — a spirit 
often and forcefully expressed by Bums — prompted an 
uprising in. France which affected the whole of Europe 
During the summer of 1789, when Burns, after the 
first success of his poems, had gone "back to the land'- 
as farmer and exciseman, the mob in Paris destroyed 
■Kie Bastille. King Louis XVI was virtually deposed at 
■nee, though allowed to live till January, 1793. In the 
Bieantime the other old monarchies of Europe formed 
^K coalition to repress the ropnblienn movement. In 

1 



10 INTRODUCTIOX 

spite of much outspoken sympathy in Great Britain 
v/ith the early aims of the French revolutionists, the 
government of England joined the coalition; and the 
excesses of the Eeign of Terror in Paris (June 2, 1793, 
to July 27, 1794) alienated even many Englishmen 
who had at first sympathized with the French uprising. 
During the last year of Burns's life Napoleon Bonaparte 
was just emerging as the most significant figure of the 
time. 

In literature the period was less important than in 
liistory, yet a great movement was taking place. When 
Burns was born, the '^classicar^ tradition of Dryden and 
Pope was still predominant in literature. Poets wrote 
Jiccording to strict rules; they dealt mainly with external 
details of life and manners in the higher social circles ; 
they were interested in the general more than in the 
specific and the individual ; they seemed to care little for 
the beauty and grandeur of nature, for the remote and 
romantic in time and placC;, for the lives of humble folk, 
for the ^^rights of man.^^ During the life of Burns^ 
however, the "classic'^ tradition, though vi2:orously sup- 
ported by the great Doctor Johnson, who lived till 178-1, 
gradually yielded ascendancy to the ^*rom.antic move- 
ments^ in which Burns played so vital a part. The year 
after Burns was born (1760), Macphorson^s Ossian 
roused the greatest enthusiasm for supposed ancient 
Celtic poetry — for the remote and romantic in time and 
place. Percy's Reliques (17G5), the first great collec- 
tion of English and Scottish ballads, sprang from and 
stimulated an interest in the kind of verses that origi- 
nate more or less spontaneously among common folic. 
Professional poets, such as Goldsmith and Crabbe, took 
up this interest in the humble ; Goldsmith in his Deserted 
Village (1770), Crabbe in his more realistic Village 
(1783). And in Cowper's Tash (1785), published one 
vear before Bnriis's Kilmarnock volume, we find a truly 



IXTPvODUCTIOX 11 

romantic" love of nature, realistic portrayal of rustic 
icenes, SA^mpathetic interest in the lives of those of lowlj 
station, strong emphasis on liberty and the rights of the 
individual. It takes but a slight acquaintance with 
urns^s work to realize that all these characteristics of 
''romanticism" are his characteristics; that he is the 
most important product of the new movement before it 
reached full stature in the Avorks of Wordsworth, Coler- 
idge, Scott, Byron, Shelley, and Keats. 

BUR^Ts's LIFE 

Rot)ert Burns was born January 25, 1759, in a crude 
little clay cottage thatched with straw and containing 
but two rooms, a little more than a mile south of the 
town of Ayr and only a short distance from the Allowav 
Kirk and the *^^auld brig o' Doon" which he made famous 
in ^^Tam o' Shanter.^^ His father was William Burnes 
(so he spelled the name), a gardener in the employ of 
the provost of Ayr, Mr. Ferguson of Doonholm; and 
lessee, besides, of seven acres on which the ^^auld clay 
biggin" stood. William Burnes was from Kincardine- 
shire, on the east coast north of Edinburgh, of a faniily 
which the poet said had suffered reverses, along with its 
liereditary lords, in the cause of the Stuart Pretender 
of 1745. William Burnes was well eduacted for his time 
and station and of a fine, strong, sturdy character, though 
Ins eldest son (Eobert) once mentioned an irascible 
temper as one of the reasons for his lack of worldly 
success. The father in ^^The Cotter's Saturday Night'' 
is essentially a sincere portrait of the poet's own father. 
The mother was Agnes Brown, daughter of a Carrick 
farmer, of a more lively temperament than her very 
Scottish husband, and dowered Avith glowing black eyes 
wliich, by one of the pleasing tricks of heredity, slie 
passed on to her eldest son. 



12 INTRODUCTION 

In the straw-roofed cottage whicli is still a shrine 
for visitors to Ayr, the future poet's earliest years were 
spent; but when he was seven years old his father took 
a lease of a*farm of seventy acres at Mount Oliphant, 
only three or four miles up the River Doon from Ayr. 
Kere the family lived for eleven years, till 1777. Provost 
Ferguson was at first the owner and landlord, but on his 
death the farm passed into the hands of a cruel factor (or 
agent, as we should sav) whom Burns later satirized in 
*^The Twa Dogs.^^ 

l?obert Burns's education began before the family left 
the "auld clay biggin" at Ayr, when his father and some 
neighbors arranged to have a youth of eighteen, nftmed 
John Murdoch, teach their children and ^'board around" 
ninong the patrons. Murdoch left an interesting record 
of his famous pupil, from which it seems that the lad 
received a really good foundation for effective use of 
language. He read everything he could get hold of — and 
in those days printed matter was mainly good literature. 
The result was that while only a boy Robert Burns was 
'^absolutely a critic in substantives, verbs, and parti- 
cles" and ^^remarkable for the fluency and correctness 
of his expression." Though he never acquired a com- 
plete school education, he heard good language at home, 
and all his meager training tended to give him power of 
speech. After a few years with Murdoch, Robert and 
Gilbert Burns (his next younger brother) studied mainly 
at home under their fatlier's direction, with only occa- 
sional brief terms of schooling (usually for some special 
subject such as penmanship or the like) when one or 
the other could be spared from the work of the farm. 

By the time he was fifteen Burns was his father's 
chief helper on the ^^poorest land in Ayrshire.^^ His 
life in these years he later described as combining ^^the 
cheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing toil of a 
galley-slave." Though he was naturally strong, a leader 



INTEODUCTIOX . 13 

in feats of strength tbrouglunit his life, there can be 
little doubt that he was permanently injured by the 
hardships of his toyhood. And the iJijury was not purely 
physical. Through lack of the harmless, normal pleas- 
ures of boyhood, he was the more inclined toward ex- 
cesses when opportunity came, ^lore than one of the 
puzzling facts about Eobert Burns's later life may have 
its roots in those years of harder work than a growing 
boy should be subjected to. 

Hardships or no hardships, however, a bom poet will 
sing. Burns has told how he wrote his earliest poem, at 
the age of fifteen, in praise of a ^^onnie, sweet sonsie 
lass/^ his partner in some of the work of the harvest — 
"Handsome Xell.^^ It was fitting and prophetic tliat 
one who indited sweet songs to almost every girl or 
woman he ever met should have made this sort of begin- 
ning. For a number of years, however, ^^Handsome 
N"elF^ had no companions of whom we know certainly, 
.and in the meantime the Burns family succeeded in 
escaping from the "factor^s snasV at Mount Oliphant, 
by removing to a larger farm, Lochlea (or Lochlie), one 
hundred and thirty acres, in Tarbolton parish, about ten 
miles north of their former home, and near the Eiver 
Ayr, as Mount Oliphant was near Doon. 

Lochlea also was difficult land to farm successfully, 
and the last 5"ears of William Burnes on this place were 
clouded by financial difficulties and a serious quarrel and 
lawsuit with the landlord. In 1784 the elder Burnes 
died, and Eobert and Gilbert, by putting in claims for 
wages from the estate, managed to secure enough money 
to stock another f ann, two or three miles away — Moss- 
giel, in ^lauchline parish, whither they removed the 
whole family. In the last few years at Lochlea the poet 
had done some writing, most notably the poems about 
"Mailie,"' the immortal ewe; but it was not till the resi- 
dence at Mossgiel that his real poetic outburst came. 



U • INTRODUCTIOX 

'riierCj within two or three vears^ between tasks on the 
farm, he wrote the great bulk of his best poetry. 

During this time ahnost everj^thing that happened in 
his life was ''grist for his mill/'^ Eeligious controversies 
raged between ^^Auld Lichts'^ (strict Calvinists) and 
''New Lichts'" (the liberal party). The clever young 
farmer at Mossgiel, having friends among the 'New Lichts 
and being temperamentally a liberal, wrote racy lam- 
poons against ''Holy Willie^' or ''Daddy Anld?' In 
]>lowing he turned up a field-mouse's nest or destroyed 
a daisy; in church he noticed a louse on a fine lady's 
bonnet — ^material for poetry! If he wished to write a 
letter to a friend, or to the author of a poem that took 
his fancy, verse was as ready a medium as prose. A 
"cotter's Saturday night," the customs of Hallowe'en, 
a semi-disreputable church picnic, a drunken carousal 
in a tavern — of such unlovely stuff the ^'plowman poet^' 
made masterpieces. 

But poetry and plowing were not Burns's only activi- 
ties at Mossgiel. During his residence there occurred 
his two most important love affairs — affairs which de- 
mand attention because one of them affected the whole 
remaining course of his life, and both were the inspira- 
tion of beautiful poems. 

The first and more important was with Jean Armour, 
w^ho became Mrs. Barns. She was evidently a pretty 
and lively girl, daughter of a stone mason at Mauchline ; 
and the "First Epistle to Davie" indicates sincere affec- 
tion for her on Burns's part rather early in his residence 
in the^ame parish with her. Probably in February or 
March, 1786, he gave her a written acknowledgment 
which, under Scottish common law, made her legally his 
wife. But her father, not fancying Burns for a son-in- 
law, induced her to destroy this paper and refused to let 
her have anvthino: to do with him. Burns bv this time 
was planning to publish his poems, and in despair over 



INTRODUCTION 15 

his general prospects in Scotland (the trouble with the 
Armours included) he expected to emigrate to Jamaica 
with the proceeds of his book. This was the situation 
when John Wilson^, printer of Kilmarnock, published 
Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, by Kobert Burns, 
late in July, 1786. 

Meanwhile, apparently during the despondency that 
resulted from the action of the Armours, occurred the 
episode with Mary Campbell — ^'Highland Mary/^ 
Authorities on Burns disagree hopelessly as to this mat- 
ter, but at any rate a romantic story that grew up 
should be known in order that the poems about Highland 
Mary may be understood. This story is that the lovers 
plighted their troth on the banks of the Ayr, exchanging 
Bibles, and Mary went to her Highland home to prepare 
for marriage with Eobert, but died soon of a malignant 
fever without his seeing her again. From the fervency 
of the poems about her, and the deep feeling he was said 
to have shown when composing ^^To Mary in Heaven,'' 
grew a theory that Mary Campbell was ^^the only woman 
he ever really loved/^ This is most unfair to Jean 
Armour, however, and while she was still living as Mrs. 
Burns, the poet himself and his first biographers repre- 
sented Highland Mary as an early sweetheart. Never- 
theless, the evidence is indisputable that 1786 was the 
year of the episode with her, and perhaps the best 
explanation is that he took up with her ^^on the rebound" 
from the Armour trouble. 

After the success of the Kilmarnock volume and the 
))oet's welcome in Edinburgh, he became reconciled with 
the Armours, and in 1788 he and Jean wore formally 
and regularly married. She was a woman of little educa- 
tion or intellectuality, and probably not an inspiring 
companion for her brilliant husband ; but she was evi- 
dently aminble and patient, a faithful wife and a good 
mother. She survived her husband and kept his name 



16 INTRODUCTION 

for nearly forty years after his early death, and was 
honored by his brother Gilbert and his early biographers. 

The Kilmarnock edition succeeded far beyond anyone's 
expectation. It made the '^'Scottish bard'\ the most 
prominent fignre in contemporary literature. There was 
immediately a call for more copies of the poems and 
for a visit to Edinburgh by the poet. Carlyle deals 
extensively with this visit, which began N"ovember 28, 
1786. From this date until the summer of 1788, Burns 
lived mainly in the Scottish capital, taking incidentally 
a number of trips on horseback to see historic places, 
and occasionally visiting his old haunts in A}Tshire. He 
associated in Edinburgh with both literary society and 
the convivial ^Trochallan Fencibles.'^ He had a singular 
love affair with the lady whom he addressed as ^Tla- 
rinda" in a series of bombastic letters -signed "Sylvander,^' 
and who inspired one of his greatest songs — "Had we 
never loved sae kindly." He gained enough money from 
the Edinburgh edition to be generous to his mother and 
his brother Gilbert, and he made a number of useful 
friends; but on the whole he lost more than he gained. 
Only occasionally did he produce poetry at all comparable 
with that of the rich years at Mossgiel (especially 
1785-6) ; and his lack of a steadfast aim in life, which 
Carlyle so emphasizes, is much more obvious after the 
period in Edinburgh. 

During that time, with the assistance of some of the 
new-made friends, Burns procured an appointment in 
the Excise — an "internal revenue'^ position, as we should 
sa}' — but he did not undertake the actual work of a 
gauger until the summer of 1789. Meanwhile he re- 
turned to the "plowtail,^' taking a farm at Ellisland, 
on the Eiver Jfith in Dumfriesshire, to the southeast of 
his former haunts. Here in 1788 he and Jean settled 
in their first home together. The ir^ome from the farm 
was so scanty^ however, that the next year he undertook 



INTRODUCTION 17 

to supplement it by performing the duties of an excise- 
man. As ganger lie had to ride over a wide district and 
could give little attention to affairs at home, with the 
result that the previously inadequate income from the 
farm dwindled still more, while the rental increased. 
In 1?91 the poet ceased his striving to be a farmer and 
became only an exciseman^ living in a little house in 
Dumfries^ the most important city in the extreme south 
of Scotland. 

Various matters as to Burns^s life in Dumfries have 
been in controversy. He did not rise in the Excise as 
rapidly as he hoped; he had some trouble^, or feared 
trouble at leasts on account of charges that he sympa- 
thized more with the French Eevolutionists than a loyal 
Briton of those days was expected to do^ especially if he 
was a public officer, even in a small way. His habits in 
Dumfries have been much criticized and much defended 
from criticism. That they were materially worse, or 
better, than in Mossgiel or Edinburgh, has not been 
conclusively demonstrated. The poet of ^^Scotch Drink" 
undoubtedly drank ; he was no hypocrite, and more than 
once he testified to the harm that ^*^hard drinking" had 
done him. But neither was he a drunkard. He was dili- 
gent in his exciseship and made a good record, as he could 
not have done if he had been a drunkard. He produced 
little important poetry except songs during the Dum- 
fries period ; but it is easy to believe that his occupation 
irave him small opportunity for sustained composition, 
and tlie interest he displayed in the collections of Scot- 
tish song made by Johnson and Thomson was lively and 
fruitful. Perhaps an examination of his letters to Thom- 
son and of the songs he wrote from 1791 to 1796 
furnishes the best answer to the severest critics. Never- 
theless his later years were disappointing, and his life 
was on the whole the tragedy that Carlyle represents it 
to have been. He had a continual struggle for a bare 



18 INTRODUCilOA^ 

living, and he died at the age of thirty-seven (July 21, 
1796), leaving his family almost in want, though a few 
years later the profits of Currie's edition of the poet's 
works put them in comfortable circumstances. 

BURNS'S WORKS 

For appreciative criticism of the poems of Burns, and 
for analysis of his merits and defects and of the causes 
for his worldly failure, it is still impossible to do much 
better than to read and study Carlyle's brilliant essay. 
Eesearch has added some facts that were unknown when 
the essay was written in 1828 and has proved Carlyle'^ 
primary authority, Lockhart, to have been wrong in some 
paiticulars. Disagreements as to specific critical judg- 
ments there will always be. Yet on the whole few critical 
essays nearly a hundred years old require so little qualifi- 
cation as this one of Carlyle on Burns. 

The chief merits of Burns's poetry are truly, as Car- 
lyle says, his sincerity; his power to make any subject — 
however commonplace it may seem — interesting and im- 
portant because of the poetic feeling with which he 
invests it; his '^^clearness of sight'' and vividness and 
force of expression; his ^^genuine all-embracing Love" 
for man and nature; his success in finding "a tone and 
w^ords for every mood of man's heart." He was tender ; 
he was humorous ; yet he could express the most wither- 
ing scorn of pretension and hypocrisy and ^^inhumanity 
to man." These merits are so amplified and illustrated 
in Carlyle's essay that only summary is needed here. 

Matthew^ Arnold, it is true, denied Burns a place 
among the highest poets because a world of ^^Scotch 
drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners" is "not 
a beautiful world"; but to most readers Burns reveals 
beauty in much of that world — or, when beauty does 
not exist, makes such racy revelation of essential truth 
that the criticism seems a l)it supercilious and almost 



IXTRODUCTIOX 19 

pointless. Arnold's total estimate is about as flattering 
as Carlyle's. While he says Burns ^^comes short of the 
higli seriousness of the great classics/^ he comments on 
this poet's ^^large^ free, shrewd, benignant, truly poetic'' 
view of the world; on his "fiery, reckless energy," his 
^^overwhelming sense of the pathos of things/' his 
^^bounding swiftness," his "infinite archness and wit" 
(in such poems as "Duncan Grey" and "Tarn Glen") ; 
and in conclusion Arnold says that Bums was "a poet 
with thorough truth of substance and an answering truth 
of style" — just below the greatest poets of all the ages. 

Being no democrat, Carlyle fails to indicate adequately 
the democrat and the rebel in Burns. The poet, however, 
sympathized with the American Eevolution and with the 
French Eevolution. The most noted song of his last 
year but one — "A man's a man for a' that" — ^has been 
called "the Marseillaise of Humanity." He believed 
fervently in individual freedom to do what the individual 
conscience approved as right, in religious tolerance, in 
the leveling of artificial distinctions of class, in genuine 
brotherhood. Indeed, had Burns been less a democrat 
and less a rebel, no doubt his life would have been less 
tragic than Carlyle found it ; the "noblemen and gentle- 
men" to whom he dedicated his poems might have done 
more for him had they been less fearful of his "Spirit 
fierce and bold." 

One of Carlvle's statements, though in a wav true, 
may give a wrong impression. He says Burns's "poems 
are, with scarcely any exception, mere occasional effu- 
sions." Suppose they are — are not the best short poems, 
those of real inspiration, usually "occasional effusions," 
prompted by some incident or some thought that stirs 
the poet to utterance which is by no means imperfect 
because perhaps largely impromptu? Burns hnd the 
true artist's feeling about his work — viewed it critically 
aufl triefl to polish it; Imt the best of it was stnick off 



20 INTRODUCTION 

at white lieat, spontaneous, tnilv inspirational; and his 
really labored poems in literary English are mostly con- 
ventional and commonplace. For this reason CarMe's 
notion that if Burns had received a complete education 
and had devoted himself single-heartedly to being a poet 
on accepted models he would have risen to greater heights 
seems more than doubtful. A Burns who studied to 
secure the ^^high seriousness" Arnold demanded for the 
greatest poetry would not be the "amazing peasant of 
genius" who wrote of Holy "Willie and Poosie Nansie 
and Tarn o^ Shanter. 

Burns had models, however. His mind was saturated 
with Scottish popular poetry, of which there was an 
abundance of good quality: and he acknowledged partic- 
ular indebtedness to the two best Scotch poets who pre- 
ceded him in the eighteenth century — Allan Eamsay and 
Eobert Fergusson. Eamsay died (at the age of seventy- 
one) during the year before Burns was born. His most 
famous work is The Gentle Shepherd^ a pastoral drama 
in dialect; but his influence on Burns appears mainly 
in the latter's verse epistles, in the form and spirit of 
"The Holy Fair/^ and in various songs. Fergusson had 
a very brief and unfortunate career, dying at the age 
of only twenty-four during the year when Burns says 
he wrote his first song (1774). Fergusson's "Farmer's 
Tngle" directly suggested "The Cotter's Saturday Night," 
and other poems of his provided hints for his great 
successor. Burns, however, was over-generous in ac- 
knowledging debt, especially to Fergusson and Eamsay, 
for he far surpassed their poems even w^hen his themes 
were more or less imitative. 

The traditional division of Burns's work is into two 
main classes, poems and songs, and each class may be 
subdivided in various ways. • The earliest poems here 
printed express sympathy with animals, a S3mipathy 
highly characteristic of Burns throughout his life ; see 



I 



t 



INTRODUCTION 21 

the ^'Mailie^' poems (1781-2), 'To a Mouse"' (1?85), 
'The Auld Farmer to His Auld Mare^^ (1786), 'The 
Wounded Hare'' (1789). "The Twa Dogs/' though it 
shows a love of dogs, is primarily a verse tale and a 
social satire. As a verse tale in the same metrical form, 
"Tarn o' Shanter" superficially resembles "The Twa 
Dogs" ; but its true relations are with the group of poems 
that realistically portray Scottish rural life — especially 
'The Holy Fair/' "Halloween/' "The Jolly Beggars/' 
and "The Cotter's Saturday Mght." A very important 
theme for Burns was the narrowness of strict Calvin- 
ism, on which he expressed his views with startling 
irony in "Holy "Willie's Prayer/' with humorous fancy 
in the "Address to the Deil/' with serious scorn in the 
"Address to the Unco Guid." With these poems directed 
against hypocrisy in religion belong also the "Epistle to 
McMath" and "The Holy Fair." Notably characteristic 
of Bums are the verse epistles to his friends — to 
"Davie/' to Lapraik, to Simpson, to James Smithy to 
Mrs. Scott, to Dr. Blacklock (and others scarcely less 
interesting that are not in this book). These poems 
are intimate personal revelations: they tell us how 
Burns became a poet, how he viewed his axt^ what he 
thought about various topics that occupied his mind. 
Intimately personal, too, are the lyrics that reflect his 
troubles of 1786, when he planned to emigrate to Ja- 
maica. There is a touch of despondent feeling in the last 
stanza of "To a Mouse/' and "To a Mountain Daisy" and 
"A Bard's Epitaph" are supreme expressions of tliat 
feeling. 

A few of the selected poems remain unclassified abow. 
"Man Was Made to Mourn" is an early expression — 
almost pure English and conventional — of a pessimistic 
mood. "To a Louse" is essentially a bit of social satire. 
The "Epistle to a Young Friend" is neatly expressed 
worldly advice. "A Winter Night/' beginning in dia- 



22 INTRODUCTION 

lect as a sincere expression of sympathy with the poor, 
wanders off into grandiloquent English on a theme 
from King Lear. The "Address to a Haggis^^ con- 
tributes a bit to Burns's presentation of the Scottish 
peasant as he lived — and ate and drank. The "Address 
to Beelzebub^^ is political satire — withering irony against 
those who would curb man's freedom. The "Petition of 
Bruar Water^^ displays the same kind of sympathy for 
abused nature that "To a Mouse" or "The Wounded 
Hare" displays for abused animals. The ^^Elegy on 
Henderson" is a rich reflection of the poet's love and 
knowledge of nature. 

Passing now to the songs, it must be remembered that 
these were mostly written after Burns's contemporary 
reputation had been made by the publication of the bulk 
of his longer poems. The vast majority of his songs 
doubtless owe their very existence to his agreement to 
help,^ first James Johnson, then George Thomson, in their 
efforts to perpetuate Scottish tunes. Burns's work for 
the song collections of these men usually began with his 
hearing and learning an air to which he endeavored to 
fit appropriate words. Often the old words associated 
with the melody gave him his theme ; sometimes he kept 
a considerable portion of an old song, or made a clever 
patchwork from several sources. Always lie was fitting 
ivords to a hnown tune — and this is a very important 
consideration in regard to the songs. 

Quite naturally a majoritj^ of those here selected, as 
well as of the total number Burns wrote, are in some 
Avay love songs. The general approval of "the sex" which 
he expressed so happily in one of his earliest songs — 
"Green Grow the Hashes" — was sincere. "A¥hen I want 
to be more than ordinary in song," he once wrote to 
Thomson, "I have a glorious recipe .... I put myself 
on a regimen of admiring a fine woman; and in propor- 
tion to the adorabilit}^ of her charms, in proportion you 



INTRODUCTION 23 

are delighted with my verses/' Of course it does not 
follow that Bums was seriously ^^in love'^ whenever he 
wrote in the fervent terms of that emotion; he had the 
true lyric poet's power to make a passing fancy — a burst 
of admiration — seem real. And he also had some of the 
dramatic poet's power to give expression to feelings 
natural to other persons ; as in his songs that purport to 
be sung by women — songs as varied in mood as ^^John 
Anderson, My Jo/' ^'Tam Glen/' 'The Banks o' Boon," 
and "Whistle an' I'll Come to Ye." The truth is that 
Burns in his songs is the ^'complete lover," with felicitous 
expression for every mood from the worldly wisdom 
which cannily seeks ''K Lass wi' a Tocher/' to the rapt 
enthusiasm of '*^To Mary in Heaven" or ^'Ae Fond Kiss." 
Of the selections that are not love songs one is in- 
timately personal — ^the "Farewell'^ written when Burns 
expected to leave Scotland; one is another sort of "Fare- 
well" — that of McPherson from the gallows ; one is the 
world's most famous song of friendship, "Auld. Lang 
Syne"; two are rollicking drinking songs; two are 
Jacobite songs alluding pensively to the failure of 
"Charlie" in 1745; one is that wonderful "war-ode" (as 
Carlyle calls it)^ "Scots wha hae"; and one gives im- 
mortal expression to the idea of universal brotherhood. 
These are not quite all the songs in this volume, but the 
raiige of feeling is evident. One may not agree with 
Carlyle that Burns's songs were his best work. Perfect - 
as maliy of them are, they may seem too slight to weigh 
down the scales against his most important poems of 
greater length. Yet thc}^ rark with the best songs in 
English — and that is praise enough. 

SCOTTISH DIALECT IN BURNS 

The Scottish of Burns is not a distinct lan^age, but 
a dialect of English — the only Englisli dialect, however, 
with an important independent litornrv tradition. As 



24 INTRODUCTION 

long ago as the time of Chaucer there was a famous 
Scottish poet, John Barbour, who wrote in his northern 
dialect of the deeds of Eobert Bruce. During the century 
and a half after Chaucer's death the best poets among 
his imitators were Scots and wrote in Scottish — notably 
Henryson, Dunbar (the greatest of Burns's predecessors 
in the Lowland vernacular), Gavin Douglas, and Sir 
David Lyndesay (who appears in Scott's Marmion as 
^^Lion King at Arms''). Then for a time the northern 
dialect was preserved mainly in ballads and other popular 
poetry; but in the early part of Burns's own century 
Allan Eamsay began the restoration of Scottish to a posi- 
tion of literary importance which it has since maintained, 
largely because of Burns. 

The peculiarity of the dialect in Burns's poems con- 
sists partly in the use of words totally strange to ordi- 
nary English — ^words which the reader simply must learn 
by use of a glossary. Herein lies most of the diJBficulty 
of such poems as "Halloween" or "The Auld Parmer to 
His Auld Mare." Many words, however, vary only 
slightly from ordinary English, so that a, summary of 
differences in spelling and pronunciation as found in 
Burns will greatly reduce the need of glosses. 
Vowel Changes 

1. Scottish a often represents an English o (or the o in such 

words as work). 

Examples: aff (off), aft (oft), drap (drop), gat (got), 
lang (long), saft (soft), sang (song), Strang 
(strong), wark (work), warld (world), 
wrang (wrong), etc. 

2. A longer a (as in father) may represent o (or, in sound, do). 

Examples: na (no), twa (two), wha (who), etc. 

3. Af acy or ai (pronounced, according to Burns, like "French e 

masculine'' — which is nearly modern EngUsh a) very 
often represents o. 

Examples of a: ane (one), bane (bone), hale (whole), 



INTRODUCTION 25 

hame (home), lane (lone), rape (rope), 

stane (stone). 
Examples of ae: ae (Middle English o, one), claes 

(clothes), fae (foe), frae (fro, from), gae 

(go), mae (mo, more), nae (no), sae (so), 

wae (woe). 
Examplas of ai: aits (oats), baith (both), claith (cloth), 

laith (loath), mair (more), maist (most), 

sair (sore). 

4. An sometimes represents ai. 

Examples: saunt (saint), straught (straight). The 
same sound also occurs in awa' (away), 
daur (dare). 

5. Au may represent o. 

Examples: auld (old), bauld (bold), cauld (cold), fauld 
(fold), gaun (going), tauld (told), waur 
(worse). 

6. Aw (usually so spelled, pronounced like au) often represents 

ow. 

Examples: awe (owe), blaw (blow), craw (crow), law 
(low), maw (mow), saw (sow), shaw (show), 
snaw (snow). 

7. Short e sometimes represents 6. 

Example: het (hot). 
S. Ee, ei, ie (pronounced like ee in bee) often correspond to y 
(or some other English spelHng of the same sound). 
Examples: fiee, fiie (fly), hie (high), slee (sly). It is 
important to remember that words like die, 
he, etc., are pronounced dee^ lee^ etc. 
0. En frequently represents oo. 

Examples: beuk (book), heuk (hook), leuk (look), 
neuk (nook), sheuk (shook), teuk (took). 

10. Short I may represent o (usuall}^ in words in which the 

sound is that of U). 

Examples: ither (other), anither (another), tither 
(t'other), dizzen (dozen), mither (mother), 
sin (son). 

1 1 . Short i may represent u (or some other spelling of the sound). 

Examples: bill (bull), fit (foot), jimp (jump),mt (nut), 
pit (put), rin (run), simmer (suiiiiuer). 



26 INTRODUCTION 

12. U or ui (pronounced like French u or German u) often rep-, 
resents oo. Burns, however, often wrote oo even when 
he expected the French u pronunciation. 

Examples: bluid (blood), guid, gude (good), luve (love), 
muir or moor, puir or poor, sune or soon. 

Consonant Changes 

1. Final d. The ending ed, pronounced it or et, was also often 

so spelled. 

Examples: negleckit (neglected), reestit (rested), 
whiskit (whisked). 

2. Final g. The ending ing (pronounced much like the older 

Scottish participle ending and — with the d silent) is oiten 
written in. 

Examples: breakin (breaking), rantin (ranting), 
speakin (speaking). 

3. L, and especially final 11, is often dropped, with the following 

important results: 
A* (sometimes written without the apostrophe) represents 
final all. 

Examples: 2J (all), ba' (ball), ca' (call), befa^ (befall), 
ha' (hall), sma' (small , 
Au represents Enghsh at. 

Examples: caudron (caldron), faut (fault), maut (malt), 
saut (salt), scaud (scald). Hand (for hold 
— old form, hald) really belongs here also. 
Ou represents ull. 

Examples: fou (full), pou (pull), pou'd (pulled). 
Ow represents ol or oil. 

Examples: cowt (colt), gowd (gold), howe (hollow), 
knowe (knoll), pow (poll, meaning head), 
rowe (roll), stown (stolen). 

4. V within a word or at the end may be dropped; sometimes 

the omission is indicated by an apostrophe, sometimes not. 
Examples: aboon (above-n), deil (devil), e'en (even), 
ga'e (gave), gie (give), hae (have), hairst 
(harvest), lea'e (leave), lee-lang (live-long), 
lo'e (love), sair (serve), shool (shovel)^ 
siller (silver), twal' (twelve). Sel' (self) 
really belongs to this class also. 



INTRODUCTION 27 

Pronunciation 
Most of the essential points have been given in the notes of 
vowel and consonant changes, but a few additions may be helpful. 

1. Ch and gh are strong gutturals in Scottish (like German ch). 

Even when Burns wrote such words as lightj rights brought^ 
soughtj with the ordinary English spelhng, he expected 
them to be pronounced licht, richtj hrochtj sochty etc. And 
roughj for example, is roch (similar to loch = lake). 

2. H is stron;^ly aspirated except in EngHsh words in which it 

is silent (such as honor) . 

3. A^^ within a word is pure nasal without any of the hard g 

sound. Thus langer (longer) is pronounced as in German, 
without the g sound that appears in anger or in longer, 

4. Ou is pronounced like English 6d. 

5. R is always rolled, sometimes to the extent of adding a 

syllable. Thus Burns treats fire and mire as metrically 
two syllables each. 

BURNS'S RIMES 

An observant student will very soon notice that many 
of Burns's rimes are inexact. On the first page of the 
poems in this volume we find thegither and tether, ended 
and mendit. In many cases like the latter, the inexact- 
ness of the rime disappears with the proper Scottish 
pronunciation (ended = endit) ; but Burns made a good 
deal of deliberate use of assonance in place of rime, and 
in general Scottish poetry is less sensitive to difference of 
vowel than is English poetry. When we find such combi- 
nations as clatter, ivater, whitter, better; wrench., inch,, 
(flunchj punch; woods y budsy whids, croods, we must not 
hastily pronounce these bad or careless rimes, but must 
recoc:nize them as poetic liberties that the Scotch ro- 
irardod as legitimate. 



28 INTRODUCTiON 

THOMAS CAELYLE 
LIFE 

Within the territory tliat Burns traversed as excise- 
man, about fifteen miles east of Dumfries, is the little 
town of Ecclefechan, where, during the last winter of 
Burn^s life, Thomas Carlyle was born — December 4, 
1795. Carlyle^s father, James Carlyle, told his son of 
once seeing Burns standing in "Eob Scott's smithy'' at 
Ecclefechan — "a man with boots on, like a well-dressed 
farmer." This bit of a link in the lives of the poet and 
one of his best critics points to a reason for the under- 
standing and sympathy of Carlyle, for he was of the land 
of Burns and knew the conditions that Burns faced. 

James Carlyle was a' stone mason (as w^as Burns's 
father-in-law, James Armour) — a man of little formal 
education but — said his son — "of perhaps the very largest 
natural endownment of any it has been my lot to con- 
verse wdth" ; of a '^bold, glowing style" in talk, extremely 
humorous, "^"^emphatic . . . beyond all men," "of rigid, 
even scrupulous veracity," very active and industrious — 
all these being qualities transmitted to his son. He was 
a religious man, of the ISTew Licht sect which Burns 
had so fervently supported. Carlyle's mother, Mlirgaret 
Aitken, was "a woman of . . . the fairest descent — that 
of the pious, the just and wise"; of milder tempera- 
ment than her fiery husband. "No man of my day, or 
hardly any man," said Carlyle, "can have had better 
parents." 

Living in a town, in a moderately prosperous though 
always frugal household, Thomas Carlyle — unlike Burns 
— received the best education that could be procured for i 
him. He was unable to remember a time when he could ' 
not read. At the age of ten he was taken by his father, 
on foot, to the academy in the tovm of Annan, a few 
miles south of Ecclefechan, near Sol way Firth. Tlie 



INTRODUCTION 29 

autuinn before he was fourteen he entered the Uni- 
versity of Edinburgh, tramping all the way to the capital 
over some of the most historic ground in Scotland. 

At this time (1809) the University of Edinburgh is 
said to have resembled a bear-garden, "where the youth 
of the land, drawn from every rank of the population, 
were let loose to browse as they listed/'* There were 
no entrance examinations ; there was very little system- 
atic instruction, and what there was Carlyle afterwards 
pronounced bad; on the whole, he extravagantly de- 
clared, "out of England and Spain, ours was the worst 
of all hitherto discovered universities/^ ' But he read 
widely in the library, thus laying a foundation for his 
work as historian, biographer, and critic. 

Wlien his family made sacrifices to keep him in the 
University, it was with the plan that he should enter the 
ministry, as the ^^Dright boy^^ in any pious Scottish 
family was then expected to do. Accordingly, on leaving 
the University in 1814, without a degree, he was enrolled 
as a non-resident student in divinity, with the obligation 
to make a report on his work every year. His chief 
occupation for several years, however, was teaching : first 
in the school at Annan which he himself had attended : 
then at Kirkcaldy, a coast town about twenty miles 
north of Edinburgh; finally at Edinburgh, where, after 
definitely giving up plans for the ministry in 1818, he 
took private pupils wlien he could get them, studied law 
intermittently, read English and foreign literature in- 
cessantly, and made a small start as a writer by con- 
tributing some articles to an encyclopedia. 

For several years his situation at Edinburgh was verv 
hard — ^his income small and uncertain, his means of 
sustenance chiefly oat-cakes sent from home, his health 
impaired by dyspepsia (to which he continued subject 

•J. n. TlobertsOTi in Cnmhridnn TTifitnry of English T-^frmturc, 
Vol. XIJI. 



30 IJs^TRODUCTION 

all his life), his mind unsettled as to the work he could 
and should do. He disliked teaching, preaching, and 
law, and the way into successful authorship seemed 
very slow. In one of the most famous portions of his 
Sartor Resartus, which is a sort of spiritual autobio- 
graphy, Carlyle deals with his own mental state during 
this period. ^'The Everlasting Xo had said: ^Behold, 
thou art fatherless, outcast, and the Universe is mine 
(the DeviFs)/^^ In other words, at least in his darkest 
hours, he sank to loss of faith in God and man ; he had 
no confidence in his ability to accomplish anything use- 
ful. But at a fortunate hour of ^^^Spiritual Xew-Birth'' 
the ^^Everlasting Yea^^ became dominant in his life, as- 
serting the rule of God in the world, the freedom of the 
individual, and his duty to "Produce ! Produce ! Were 
it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product^ 
produce it, in God's name/' From this time Carlyle no 
longer vacillated, but studied indef atigably and produced 
books which had more spiritual influence on his genera- 
tion than those of any other man. 

Not long before his acceptance of the ^^Everlasting 
Yea,^' Carlyle had met Miss Jane Baillie Welsh, the 
beautiful and brilliant young woman who some years 
later (in 1826) became his wife. She too was of Low- 
land Scotch blood; but whereas Carlyle was of peasant 
stock, she was the daughter of a noted and successful 
surgeon and had been used to the best society. ^Tever- 
theless she had such faith in the ability of the struggling 
young writer, and such affection for the "warm, true 
heart'' beneath his rough exterior, that she rejected 
suitors more promising from a worldy point of view, 
made over to her mother all interest in the comfortable 
estate left by her father, and faced the world witli 
Thomas Carlyle. First they lived in a tiny house at the 
edge of Edinburgh, but city life did not allow such 
quiet as Carlyle thought he needed for his work. Accord- 



INl^RODUCTION 31 

ingly in the spring of 1828 they removed to Craigen- 
pnttock, a moorland farm belonging to the Welshes, 
some fifteen or twenty miles northwest of Dumfries — 
'^^the dreariest spot in all the British dominions/^ .Here 
for six years they lived almost in solitude, while by the 
most persistent and toilsome labor Carlyle slowly made 
his way to such recognition that they oould afford to 
give up so isolated and frugal a life. ^^At this Devil's 
Den, Craigenputtock/^ says a memorandum by Carljde, he 
finished his Essay on Burns, September 16, 1828. Here 
he wrote Sartor Resartus and did much of the reading 
from which his French Revolution was to result. 

In 1834 the Carlyles moved to London, where books 
for research could be more readily obtained; and at 
number 24, Cheyne Eow, Chelsea, near the Thames and 
not very far above the Houses of Parliament and West- 
minster Abbey, in a plain brick house that is now a 
Carlyle museum, and a shrine for tourists, they hence- 
forth made their home. Here in a secluded study, pro- 
tected as well as might be from intrusions, Carlyle 
pursued his researches and painfully wrote his books; 
while Mrs. Carlyle, socially one of the most charming of 
women, conducted a salon in her drawing room to which 
the cleverest people of the day were delighted to come. 
After thirty-two years of this sort of life, Mrs. Carlyle 
died suddenly in 1866, in her sixty-fifth year, while her 
distinguished husband was absent in Scotland on the 
greatest worldly triumph of his career — ^his induction 
into the lord rectorship of the University of Edinburgh, 
to which he had been elected over Disraeli, Gladstone's 
great rival in politics. For fifteen years longer Carlyh^ 
lived in the Chelsea home, the broken, grieving old man 
of Whistler\s famous portrait, bitterly remorseful be- 
cause he felt that in his absorption in his work he had 
nei>'lectod her whom he loved bo^t of all human bein^rs. 
TFe died in 1881, at the age of eighty-five, and was buried, 



32 INTRODUOriOM 



1 



according to Ms own request, in the churchyard at 
Ecclefechan. 

carlyle's works and influence 

After the unsigned and uncollected contributions to 
Brewster's Edinburgh Encyclopedia (mentioned on page 
29), Carlyle^s first writings appeared in magazines, 
and a majority of these early articles were on the great 
idealistic authors of the German romantic movement — 
Goethe, Schiller^ Eichter, and others. These men Carlylo 
knew better than any other British writer of his time 
knew them, and much of their influence in Great Britain 
was due to him. His earliest important magazine article 
was on Goethe's Faust, in the New Edinburgh Review 
for 1822. His first published book of a literary charac- 
ter* was a translation of Goethe's novel, Wilhelm 
Meister's Apprenticeship (1824). His first original • 
work to be issued as a book was a Life of Schiller (1825 
— it had appeared in the Lop don Magazine in 1823-4). 
His first contribution to the Edinburgh Bevieiv, the most 
influential magazine of the time, was an essay on Jean 
Paul Eichter (1827). vThese are only ''first things" in 
a list which also includes a volume of translations called 
German Romance and magazine essays on -''The State- 
of German Literature," on Heine, on ''German Play-| 
Wrights," on N*ovalis, on the Nibelungen Lied, and on 
various topics relating to CarMe's prime favorites — 
Eichter, Schiller, and Goethe. N"ot the least valuable 
product of this period of German influence on Carlylo 
was his correspondence with Goethe, then an old man. 

Out of this period, also, the chief immediate result 
of the strenuous years at Craigenputtock, came Carlyle'^ 
most characteristic and significant book, in which hj 
' expressed the main theories of life and work that pervade 

* Somewhat earlier he had published a translation of T^egendre's 
Elements of Geometry and Triponomctrij. 



INTRODUCTION 33 

all his writing. Sartor Resartus (the ^^Tailor Eetail- 
ored^^) pretends to be an English edition of a collection 
of notes made by a fictitious German, Diogenes Tenfels- 
drockh, professor of "things in general'^ in the University 
of "Don't-know-where/^ Part of these notes are bio- 
graphical, and in dealing ostensibly with Teufelsdrockh^s 
life Cariyle is commenting — sometimes with humorous or 
grotesque exaggeration, but Avith much essential truth — 
on his own childhood and youth, his education, and his 
struggles to reach the "Everlasting Yea/^ In the main, 
however, the book is an expression of Carlyle^s philosophy 
of life. The "clothes philosophy" by which he accounts 
for his odd title is, in substance, "that man and society 
are only vestures — transient wrappings of the one reality, 
God." This, the germt idea of the book, Cariyle found in 
Swift^s Tale of a Tuh, but he elaborated it ingeniously 
and powerfully, making it thoroughly his own. With 
great vigor he attacked the shams and pretenses and 
wrongs of the world — outworn social distinctions, use- 
less customs, mechanical education, war, insincere re- 
ligion — and preached earnestly his gospel of diligent, 
sincere work at whatever one finds he can do best. 

The style of Sartor Resartus is ve^ry singular. Because 
he pretended to be translating from the German, Cariyle 
imitated the German custom of capitalizing nouns, he 
rendered German idioms literally into English, he often 
followed a German rather than an English sentence 
order, he coined strange compound words. Furthermore, 
under the special influence of Eichter, the book is an 
odd combination of grotesque or grim satiric humor, 
fiery eloquence, and tender pathos. Its figurative quality 
is particularly remarkable; the most imaginative poetry 
contains no more striking metaphors than Sartor Re- 
sartus. Carlyle's mastery of English in this book and in 
all his work is exceptional. He took liberties with 
words and with the English sentence, but he m^de both 



34 INTRODUCTION 

Avords and sentences do what he wished; he was — said 
Eichard Garnett, one of his biographers — "one of the 
very few in whose hands language is wholly flexible and 
fusible/^ 

Sartor Resartus appeared serially in Frasefs Magazine 
in 1833-4, but no publisher had the Cuurage to make a 
book of it till Emerson was sponsor for an edition at 
Boston in 1836. A London edition finally appeared in 
1838, after the publication of The French Revolution 
(1837) had roused public interest in the author. 

While The French Revolution is not exactly a history 
in the ordinary sense of the word, it is the first and on 
the whole the best exemplification of one of Carlyle's 
"pet ideas'^ — that history should be chiefly a record of 
the lives and character and work of great men, told for 
the effect of its political or moral lessons on the his- 
torian's own generation. A reader needs to know well 
the main events of the French Eevolution in order to 
understand and appreciate Carlyle's discussion; but the 
book is a wonderful series of flashlights of persons and 
scenes, and interprets the spirit of the revolutionary 
movement with the utmost vividness and power. It is a 
work of> creative imagination rather than an orthodox 
and conventional history. 

Carlyle's theory of history was popularly explained a 
little later in the series of lectures (delivered 1840, pub- 
lished 1841), On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and- the Heroic 
in History, and was continuously in his mind during the 
preparation of the two most laborious and extensive 
tasks of his life. These were an edition of Oliver Crom- 
welVs Letters and Speeches, with extensive "elucidations" 
by Carlyle (1845-6), and the enormous History of Fried- 
rich II of Prussia, called Frederick the Great, the six 
volumes of which appeared at intervals from 1858 to 
1865. 

During "breathing spells" in his larger labors on the 



J 



INTRODUCTION 35 

French Eevolution, on Cromwell^ on Frederick the Great, 
Carlyle collected his Critical and Miscellaneous Essays 
from the reviews and published them in four volumes 
in 1839; wrote several important volumes of political 
discussion — Chartism, 1839: Past and Present 1843; 
Latter-Day Pamphlets, 1850; and. prepared a Life of 
John Sterling (1851) which lovers of regularity and 
critics of eccentricity or violence sometimes call his 
^^most perfect'^ work. After the completion of Fredenck 
the Great, closely followed as it was by the death of his 
wife, he was an old man and did no more important 
writing except his Reminiscences. 

In the foregoing statement of Carlyle's theory of his- 
tory, and of the main ideas of Sartor Resartus, an almost 
complete epitome of his message has been given. Be- 
cause he believed in ^Tieroes/^ in g:overnment by the best 
men, he distrusted democracy, and in his works on con- 
temporary political questions he declaimed vigorously 
- against extension of the franchise and other liberal meas- 
ures. He heaped abuse upon the developing science of 
]:)o]itical economy because he considered that it put a 
•^profit and loss'^ basis for human relations in place of 
principles of religion and morality. In all his books, 
at every opportunity, he preached his doctrine of earnest 
and sincere work as man's primary duty, and his faith 
in the ^^mystery and power of life as the garment of 
God.'' With infinite variety he thundered forth "an 
intense moral indignation against whatever is weak or 
false or mechanical; an intense moral enthusiasm for 
whatever is sincere and heroically helpful."* 

Carlyle's value as a writer worth reading in the 
twentieth century depends not so much on his view^s 
on practical questions as upon his inspirational power. 
In his originality and vigor he is still tonic; he makes 
one think, and think hard. Whatever be one's attitude 

♦Moody and Liovetfs History of English Literature. 



36 



INTRODUCTION 



toward his anti-democratic opinions or other specific 
doctrines, one must recognize that few writers of Eng- 
lish have said more memorable things in a more striking 
way. Many of his counsels, too, are as valuable for the 
world of 1920 as they were for the world of 1830 or 
1840 or 1850. Scorn of shams and pretenses and insin- 
cerities is as pertinent as it ever was; men still forget 
too often the divine or spiritual element that pervades 
all things; and there has never been a time in the 
world's history when Carlyle's "gospel of work" was 
more needed. 



THE ESSAY ON BURNS 

In the preceding discussion of Carlyle no specific 
attention has been given to his merits as a critic. The 
Essay on Burns, the third of his contributions to the 
Edinhurgh Review, is valuable as criticism of literature 
and as criticism of life. Beginning as a review of a 
biography of Burns by Lockhart (the son-in-law and 
biographer-to-bfe of Sir Walter Scott), it proceeds in the 
fashion of the reviews of the time to attempt a complete 
and final estimate of the subject. As criticism of litera- 
ture it is especially valuable for setting up principles on 
which to base critical judgments. Carlyle does not say 
arbitrarily, "I like this. I don't like that.'' He examines 
Burns's poems to see what qualities they have; and 
according to their sincerity, truth, vividness — all their 
observed characteristics — he expects us to be interested 
in them. Most of the best English literary criticism 
since the publication of this essay has made like efforts 
to discover and display the qualities of the work reviewed. 

But it is as a critic of life that Carlyle did his best 
work ; always he was interested primarily in personalities. 
As the explanation of his theory of history has shown, 
the biography of great men was to him one of the most 
importiant kinds of writing, if not the most important, 



INTRODUCTIOX 37 

and the principles which in his opinion should govern 
the writing of biography receive in this very essay (page 
237) a fundamental statement. For the kind of estimate 
of Burns that he believed all great men should receive^ 
Carlyle was remarkably well equipped. He could ap- 
proach his subject with the sympathy born of experience 
of the sort of life Burns had to lead, while at the same 
time his broad reading and stern moral principles pre- 
vented either a narrowly prejudiced or an unduly gener- 
ous apologetic view. We may not agree wholly with his 
estimate, but disagreement on any point must be based 
on evidence and careful consideration. 

The Essay on Burns is not ^^easy reading.'' Carlyle 
never ^^wrote dovm" to his audience. If they did not 
understand the words he used or the allusions he made — 
well, the loss was theirs; it was their task to equip them- 
selves to understand . Nevertheless, this essay is simpler 
and more normal in structure and style than most of Car- 
lyle's work written after he had developed the ^^Carlylese" 
of Sartor Resartus; while at the same tim§ it displays 
much of his characteristic eloquence. In it is expressed 
or implied the essence of Carlyle's great message to his 
generation, and it has long been regarded one of the 
most sympathetic and at the same time discriminating' 
of critical essays in the English language. 



^ 



k 



A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 
BURNS 

EDITIONS 

Biirns made three collections of his poems, all having the title — 
Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, 
The first was the Kilmarnock edition of 1786. In the second, 
the Edinburgh edition of 1787, twenty-two additional poems 
were included. After various reprints of this edition, a new one 
with twenty more additions was issued in two volumes in 1793, 
and reprinted in 1794. (Poems on the following pages ap- 
peared in all these editions unless otherwise noted.) 

Meanwhile numerous songs by Burns had been appearing in — 
The Scots MiLsical Museum 
edited by James Johnson, of which Volume I was pubUshed in 
1787, II in 1788, III in 1790, IV in 1792, V in 1796. The last 
volume, VT, was not issued till 1803. In Johnson^s entire col- 
lection there were 184 songs written or collected by Burns. . 

The other important song collection with which Burns was 
concerned was — 

A Select Collection of Original Scottish Airs for the Voice 
edited by George Thomson. Part I was pubhshed in 1793, II in 
1798, Parts III and IV in 1799. These four parts made two 
volumes of fifty songs each, and three additional volumes ap- 
peared in 1801, 1805, and 1818. Thomson printed about 
seventy songs by Burns, a number of which Johnson also had 
printed. 

In 1800 the first approximately complete edition of Burns's 
Works was published — Dr. Curriers edition in four volumes, with 
an account of Burns's hfe to which Carlyle several times refers 
The Currie edition was often reprinted, and to the eighth edition 
(1820) Gilbert Burns contributed many notes. 

Other editions have been very numerous, and for a good many 
years additions to the poems or letters were frequently made. 
A few of the most important editions (important mainly because 
of additions to the poet^s works) are as follows: 

Reliques of Robert Burns, Cromek, 1808. (Not an edition 
of the then known works, but miscellaneous additional 
poems and letters.) 

38 



A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPKY 39 

Poetical WorkSy Aldine edition by Sir H. Nicolas, 1830, 
revised 1839; revised again by G. A. Aitken, 3 vols., 1893. 

WorkSj edited by Allan Cunningham, 8 vols., 1834, and often 
reprinted. 

WorkSj edited by the Ettrick Shepherd (Hogg) and Mother- 
well, 5 vols., 1836. 

WorkSy edited by A. Whitelaw, 2 vols., 1843-4. 

Life and WorkSy Robert Chambers, 1851, 4 vols. An 
important revision and partial rewriting of this edition 
was issued by W. Wallace in 1896. 

Poetical Works, George Gilfillan, 1864, etc. The National 
BurnSy 2 vols., illustrated, 1879, etc., is the best form 
of Gilfillan's edition. 

Poetical Works, 2 vols., 1865; Complete WorkSy Globe edition, 
1868, both by Alexander Smith and often reprinted (the 
latter, one of the best editions in one volume). 

LAfe and WorkSy P. H. Waddell, 1867. 

Complete Works, W. Scott Douglas, 6 vols., 1877-79; reissued 
in 1891. 

The Poetry of BurnSy Centenary edition, Henley and 
Henderson, 4 vols., 1896. (Henley's introductory essay, 
the text, and the most important notes of this edition 
have been reprinted in the Cambridge edition, one of the 
best in one volume.) 

The Songs of Bums, J. C. Dick, 1903. 

HIOGKAPHY AXD CRITICISM 

Biographies of Burns and essays on him are very numerous. 
In addition to the early biographies mentioned by Carlyle, and 
biographical and critical material in the editions mentioned 
above, note the following very rigidly selective Hst : 

A. Angellier, Robert Burns, sa Vie et ses Oeuvres; Paris, 1893 

(an important French study). 
Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticismy second series (also in 

Ward's English Poets). 
J. S. Blackie, Life of Burns, in Great Writers series, 1888. 
Thomas Carlyle, Heroes and Hero-Worship (The Hero iis a 

Man of Letters). 
W. A. Craigie, Primer of Bums, 1896. 
T. F. Henderson, Robert Burns, Little Biographies, 1904. 



40 A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Francis Jeffrey, review of Cromek's ReliqueSy in Edinburgh 

Review, 1809. 
W. A. Neilson, Burns — Hem to Know Him, 1917. 
Sir Walter Scott, review of Cromek^s Reliqu£s in Quarterly 

Review, 1809. 
J. C. Shairp, Burns, in English Men of Letters series, 1879. 
Sir Leslie Stephen, article on Burns in Dictionary of National 

Biography. 
R. L. Stevenson, essay in Familiar Studies of Men and 

Books, 1882. 
See also poems on Burns by Lowell, Whittier, Wordsworth 

Campbell, Holmes, Longfellow; and Wordsworth's Letter 

to a Friend of Burns, 1816. 



CARLYLE 

Carlyle's most important works have been mentioned on 
pages 32-35. It is not important to consider editions. Par- 
ticularly interesting material as to Carlyle is found in his — 

Reminiscences, edited by Froude, 1881 
and his Correspondence — 

With Emerson, edited by C. E. Norton, 1883; 
With Goethe, edited by C. E. Norton, 1887; 
With Mrs. Carlyle, edited by Froude, 1883, and additional 
material edited by Alexander Carlyle, 1903, 1904, 1909. 
Some of the most important sources of information on or 
criticism of Carlyle are the following: 

Matthew Arnold, Discourses in America. 

John Burroughs, Fresh Fields; Indoor Studies. 

R. W. Emerson, English Traits; Lectures and Biographical 

Sketches. 
J. A. Froude, Thomas Carlyle, 4 vols., 1882-4; My Relations 

with Carlyle, 1903 (written in 1886). 
Richard Garnett, Life of Carlyle, Great Writers series. 
J. R. Lowell, essay in My Study Windows (vol. II of collected 

essays). 
John Morley, Critical Miscellanies. 
John Nichol, Thomas Carlyle, English Men of Letters series.' 
Bliss Perry, Carlyle — How to Know Him. 
Sir Leshe Stephen, article in Dictionary of National Biog 
raphy. 



d 

',r 11 



POEMS 

THE DEATH AND DYING WOEDS 
OP POOE MAILIE 

THE author's only PET YOWE^ 
AN UNCO' MOURNFU' TALE 

[This poem and the "Elegy" that follows are among Burns*s 
earliest compositions, dating from 1782 or a little earlier. 
Gilbert Burns made the following interesting explanation of 
the circumstances that prompted the poems: Robert *'had, 
partly by way of frolic, bought a ewe and two lambs from a 
neighbor, and she was tethered in a field adjoining the house 
at Lochlea. He and I were going out with our teams, and 
our two younger brothers to drive for us, at mid-day, when 
Hugh Wilson, a curious-looking, awkward boy, clad in plaid- 
ing, came to us with much anxiety in his face, with the in- 
formation that the ewe had entangled herself in the tether, and 
was lying in the ditch, Robert was much tickled with Hughoc's 
appearance and postures on the occasion. Poor Mailie was 
set to rights, and when we returned from the plow in the 
evening he repeated to me her *Death and Dying Words' pretty 
much in the way they now stand." 

"Mailie" is the same as "Mollie" — a nickname for Mary.] 

As Mailie, an^ her lambs thegither,^ 
Was ae* day nibbling on the tether. 
Upon her cloot^ she coost^ a hitch. 
An' owre^ she warsFd^ in the ditch; 
^ There, groaning, dying, she did lie. 
When Hughoc he cam doytin^ by. 

Wi' glowrin een^^ and lifted han's 
Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's; 
He saw her days were near-hand ended, 
^^ But, wae's my heart! he could na mond it! 
He gaped wide, but naething spak • 
At length poor Mailie silence brA. 

1. Yowe. Ewe. 6. Coost. Past tense of coat. 

2. Unco. Very. 7. Owre. Over. 

3. Thegither. Together. S. WarsPd. Wrestled. 

4. Ae. One. - 0. Doytin. Doddering. 

.5. Cloot. Hoof. ](). Glowrin een. Btarin^r (\ves. 

41 



42 SELECTED POEMS 



"0 thou, whase lamentable face 
Appears to mourn my woefu' case ! 
My dying words attentive hear, 
An^ bear them to my Master dear. 



15 



^^Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
As muckle gear^^ as buy a sheep, 
0, bid him never tie them mair 
20 ^ri' wicked strings o' hemp or hair! 
But ca'^^ them out to park or hill. 
An' let them wander at their will ; 
So may his flock increase an' grow 
To scores o' lambs an' packs o^ woo' !^® 

^'' '^'Tell him, he was a Master kin'. 

An' ay was guid to me an' mine ; 
An' now my dying charge I gie^^ him. 
My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' him. 

"0, bid him save their harmless lives 
^^ Frae dogs an' tods^^ an' butchers' knives! 
But gie them guid cow-milk their fill 
Till they be fit to fend^^ themsel; 
An' tent^'' them duly, e'en an' mom, 
Wi' teats^® o' hay an' ripps^^ o' com. 

35 "An' may they never learn the gaets^^ 

Of ither vile, wanrestfu'^^ pets ! 
To slink thro' slaps,^^ an' reave^^ an' steal, 
At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail.^* 

11. Muckle pear. Much money. 19. Ridds. HRndfuls. 

12. Ca'. Call, drive. 20. Gaets. Ways. 

13. Woo'. Wool. 21. Wanrestfn'. Restless. 

14. Gie. Give. 22. Slaps. Holes in fentes. 

15. Tods. Fox'-s. 23. P'^ave. Rob. 

16. Fend. Loo\ after. 24. Fail. Colewort (a plant som»- 

17. Tent. Te-'l. what like cabbage). 

18. Teats. Small quantities. 



SELECTED POEMS 43 

So may they, like their great forbears, 
^^* For monie a year come thro^ the sheers ; 
So wives will gie them bits o' bread. 
An' bairns greet^^ for them when thej^re dead. 

*'My poor toop-lamb,^® my son an' heir, 

0, bid him breed him up wi' care ! 
^^ An' if he live to be a beast, 

To pit^^ some bavins^® in his breast! 

An' warn him, what I winna name. 

To stay content wi' yowes^^ at hame; 

An' no to rin^® an' wear his cloots^^ 
^^ Like ither menseless,^^ graceless brutes. 

"An' niest,^^ my yowie, silly thing, 
Gude^* keep thee frae a tether string! 
0, may thou ne'er forgather up 
Wi' onie blastit, moorland toop; 
*^^ But ay keep mind to moop an' mell,*^ 
Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! 

^'And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, 
T lea'e my blessin wi' you baith ; 
An' when you think upo' your mither, 
^^ Mind to be kind to ane anither. 

^'Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail 
To tell my master a' my tale ; 
An' bid him burn this cursed tether. 
An' for thy pains thou'se^® get my blather.-^'' 

^^ This said, poor Mailie turii'd her head, 

An' clos'd her een^^ amang the dead ! 

25. Bairns preet. Cbildren weep. 32. Menseless. Unmannerly. 

20. Toop-lamb. A young ram. 33. Niest. Noxt. 

27. Pit. ^ Put. 34. Gude. God. 

2H. Havins. Good manners. 35. Moop an* mHl. Nibble and meddle. 

29. Yowes. Ewes. 36. Thou'se. Thou shah. 

30. Rin. Run. 37. Blather. Bladder. 

31. Cloots. Hoofs. 38. Een. Eyes 



44 SELECTED POEMS 

POOK MAILIE^S ELEGY* 

I 

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, 

WT eaut^ tears trickling down your nose ; 

Our Bardie's fate is at a close. 

Past a' remead;" 
The last, sad cape-stane^ of his woes ; 

Poor Mailie^s dead ! 

II 
It's no the loss o' warl's gear,* 
That could sae bitter draw the tear, 
Or mak our Bardie, dowie,^ wear 

The mourning weed: 
He's lost a, friend an' neebor dear 

In Mailie dead. 

Ill 
Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him ; 
A lang half-mile she could descry him; 
Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him, 

She ran wi' speed; 
A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him 

Than Mailie dead. 

IV 

I wat® she was a sheep o' sense, 
An' could behave hersel wi' mense f 
I'll say't, she never brak a fence. 

Thro' thievish greed. 
Our Bardie, lanely, keeps the spenc^^ 

Sin'^ Mailie's dead. 

1. Saut. Salt. 6. Wat. Know. 

2. A' remead. All remedy. 7. Mense. Good manners. 

3. Cape-stane. Cope-stone. 8. Spence. Parlor. 

4. Warl's gear. Worldly goods. 9. Sin'. Since. 

5. Dowie. Mournful. 



SELECTED POEMS 45 

V 
Or, if he wanders up the howe/^ 
Her living image in her yowe^^ 
Comes bleating tilP^ him, owre the knowe/* 

For bits o' bread; 
An^ down the briny pearls rowe^* 

For Mailie dead. 

VI 

She was nae get^^ o' moorlan tips,^^ 

Wi^ tawted ket,^*^ an^ hairy hips; 

For her forbears were brought in ships 

Frae yont^^ the Tweed:* 
A bonier fleesh^® ne'er crossed the clips^® 

Than Mailie's dead. 

VII 

Wae worth^^ the man wha first did shape 
That vile, wanchancie^^ thing — a rapeP^ 
It maks guid fellows girn^* an' gape 

Wi' chokin dread; 
An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape 

For Mailie dead, 

VIII 

a' ye bards on bonie Doon !* 

An' wha on Ayr* your chanters^^ tune I 

Come, join the melancholious croon^^ 

0' Eobin's reed ! 
His heart will never get aboon I^^ 

His Mailie's dead! 

10. Howe. Hollow. 19. Fleesh. Fleece. 

11. Yowe. Ewe. 20. Clips. Shoep-shears. 

12. Till. To. 21. Wae worth. Woe befaU. 

13. Knowe. Knoll. 22. Wanchancie. Unlucky. 

14. Rowe. Roll. 23. Rape. Rope. 

15. Nae get. No issue. 24. Gim. Grin, twist the face 

16. Tips. Rams. 25. Chanters. Bagpipers 

17. Tawted ket. Matted fleece. 26. Croon. Moan. 

18. Frae yont. From beyond. 27. Get aboon. Got ;i}"Mf, rejoice. 



46 SELECTED POEMS 

MAN WAS MADE TO MOUKK— A DIEGE 

[This was Burns's earliest pure English poem of any con- 
sequence, and is generally believed to date from the latter part 
of 1784. Gilbert Burns made the following note on it: "Several 
of the poems were produced for the purpose of bringing for- 
ward some favorite sentiment of the author. He used to re- 
mark to me that he could not well conceive a more mortifying 
picture of human life than a man seeking work. In casting 
about in his mind how this sentiment might be brought for- 
Avard, the elegy *Man Was Made to Mourn' was composed." 
In 1788 Burns wrote to Mrs. Dunlop of a grand-uncle of his 
who had gone blind and whose "most voluptuous enjoyment 
was to sit down and cry, while my mother would sing the 
simple old song of *The Life and Age of Man' " — a song of 
which the refrain was, "Man was made to moan."] 



I 
When chill November's surly blast 

Made fields and forests bare. 
One evening, as I wander'd forth 

Along the banks of Ayr, 
I spy'd a man, whose aged step 

Seem'd weary, worn with care; 
His face was furrowed o'er with years^ 

And hoary was his hair. 

II 

"Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?" 

Began the reverend sage; 
^^Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain. 

Or youthful pleasure's rage? 
Or haply, prest with cares and woes. 

Too soon thou hast began , ( 

To wander forth, with me to mourn 

The miseries of man. 

Ill 
*^^The sun that overhangs yon moors, 

Out-spreading far and wide. 
Where hundreds labor to support 

A haughty lordling's pride ; 



4 



SELECTED POEMS 47 



Fve seen yon weary winter-sun 
Twice forty times return; 

And ev'ry time has added proofs. 
That man was made to mourn. 



IV 

"0 man ! while in thy early years. 

How prodigal of time ! 
Mis-spending all thy precious hours. 

Thy glorious, youthful prime ! 
Alternate follies take the sway ; 

Licentious passions burn ; 
Which tenfold force gives ISTature^s law. 

That man was made to mourn. 



V 

"Look not alone on youthful prime. 

Or manhood^s active might ; 
Man then is useful to his kind. 

Supported is his right : 
But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sorrows worn ; 
Then Age and Want — ! ill-match'd pair ! 

Show man was made to mourn. 



VI 

"A few seem favorites of Fate, 

In Pleasure's lap carest; 
Yet, think not all the rich and great 

Are likewise truly blest. 
But oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land, 

All wretched and forlorn. 
Thro' weary life this lesson learn, 

Tbnt Tnan was made to nmnrn. 



SELECTED POEMS 

VII 
'^Many and sharp the numerous ills 

Inwoven with our frame! 
More pointed still we make ourselves 

Eegret, remorse, and shame ! 
And man, whose heaven-erected face 

The smiles of love adorn — 
Man^s inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn ! 



VIII 

*'See yonder poor, overlabored wight, 

So abject, mean, and vile, 
^Yho begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ; 
And see his lordly fellow-worm 

The poor petition spurn, . 
Unmindful, though a weeping wife 

And helpless offspring mourn. 



IX 

^*If I'm designed yon lordling^s slave. 

By Nature's law designed. 
Why was an independent wish 

E'er planted in my mind ? 
If not, why am I subject to 

His cruelty, or scorn? 
Or why has man the will and poA\^r 

To make his fellow mourn? 



X 

^^Yet, let not this too much, my son, 
Disturb thy youthful breast : 

Tliis partial view of human-kind 
Is surely not the last ! 



SELECTED POEMS 49 

The poor, oppressed, honest man 

Had never, sure, been born. 
Had there not been some recompense 

To comfort those that mourn! 

XI 

^^0 Death ! the poor man^s dearest friend. 

The kindest and the best! 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest! 
The great, the wealthy fear thy blow, 

From pomp and pleasure torn; 
But, oh! a blest relief for those 

That weary-laden mourn V' 

EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET* 

January 

[The "January" at the head of this poem was doubtless 
January, 1785, when presumably the poem was finished. Gil- 
l)ert Burns, however, declared, "It was, I think, in the summer 
of 1784 when in the intervals of harder labor Robert and I 
were weeding in the garden, that he repeated to me the prin- 
cipal parts of this *Epistle.' " 

"Davie" was David pillar, a member of the Tarbolton 
Bachelors' Club (in which Burns was prominent), and author 
of a volume of poems printed at Kilmarnock in 1789. He was a 
teacher at Tarbolton and ultimately became a niagistrate of 
tlie town. One of the manuscripts of this poem in Burns'a 
liandwriting is headed, "An Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet, 
Lover, Ploughman, and Fiddler."] 

I 
While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond* blaw, 
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, 

And hing^ us owre the ingle/ 
I set me down to pass the time, 
x\nd spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, 

In hamely, westlin^ jingle. 

1. Hing. Hang. 3. Westlin. Western. 

2, Ingle. Fire. 



50 SELECTED POEMS 

^Vliile frosty winds blaw in the drift, 

Ben to the chimla Ing,* 
I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift 
That live sae bien^ an' snug: 
I tent^ less, and want less 

Their roomy fire-side; 
But hanker and canker, 
To see their cursed pride. 

II 

It's hardly in a body's pow'r 

To keep, at times, frae being sour. 

To see how things are shar'd; 
How best o' chiels^ are whyles^ in want, 
While coofs^ on countless thousands rant,^* 

And ken na^^ how to wair't;^^ 
But Davie, lad, ne'er fash^^ your head, 

Tho' we hae little gear;^* 
We're fit to win our daily bread 
As lance's we're hale and fier:^^ 

^^Mair spier na,^^ nor fear na,'^* 
Auld age ne'er mind a feg;^^ 
The last o't, the warst o't. 
Is only but to beg. 

Ill 
To lie in kilns and barns at e'en. 
When banes^^ are craz'd and bluid is thin, 

Is, doubtless, great distress! 
Yet then content could make us blest ; 
Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste 

Of truest happiness. 

4. Ben to the chimla lug. In the 11. Ken na. Know not. 
chimney cornpr, 12. Wair't. Spend it. 

5. Bien. Comfortable. 13. Fash. Trouble. 

6. Tent. Heed. 14. Gear. Property. 

7. Chiels. Fellows. 15. Fier. Sound. _ 

8. WTivles. Sometimes. In. Mair srier na. More ask not. 

9. Coofs. Fools. 17. Fee. Fig. 
10. Rant. Sport noisil5\ 18. Banes. Bones. 



SELECTED POEMS 51 

The honest heart that^s free frae a^ 

Intended fraud or guile, 
However Fortune kick the ba'/^ 
Has aye some cause to smile; 
An' mind still, you'll find still 

A comfort this nae sma' ;^^ 
IsTae mair then we'll care then, 
Nae farther can we fa'. 



IV 

What tho', like commoners of air. 
We wander out, we know not where, 

But ^^ either house or hal' ? 
Yet Nature's charms, the hills and woods, 
The sweeping vales, and foaming floods, 

Are free alike to all. 
In days when daisies deck the ground, 

And blackbirds whistle clear, ' 
With honest joy our hearts will bound, 
To see the coming year ; 

On braes^^ when we please, then. 

We'll sit an' sowth^^ a tune ; 
Syne^^ rhyme till't^^ we'll time till't, 
And sing't when we hae done. 

V 

It's no in titles nor in rank ; 

It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank. 

To purchase peace and rest ; 
It's no in makin muckle mair;^® 
It's no in books, it's no in lear,^^ 

To make us truly blest: 

1<). Ba'. Ball. 24. ?-^e. Then. 

20. Nae sma'. Not small. 25. Till't. To it. 

21. But. Without. 26. Muckle mair. Much more. 

22. Braes. Hillsides. 27. Lear. Learning. 

23. Sowth. Hum. 



52 SELECTED POEMS 

If happiness hae not her seat 

And center in the breast^, 
We may be wise, or rich, or great, 
But never can be blest; 
Nae treasures nor pleasures 

Could make us happy lang ; 
The heart ay's the part ay 

That makes us right or wrang. 

VI 

Think ye, that sic^^ as you and I, 
Wha drudge an^ drive thro' wet and dry 

Wi' never-ceasing toil; 
Think ye, are we less blest than the}^, 
Wha scarcely tent^^ us in their way. 

As hardly worth their while ? 
Alas ! how aft, in haughty mood, 

God's creatures they oppress ! 
Or else, neglecting a' that's guid, 

They riot in excess ! . .# 

Baith careless and fearless 

Of either Heaven or Hell; 
Esteeming and deeming 
It's aVan idle tale! 

VII 

Then let i;is cheerf u' acquiesce. 

Nor make our scanty pleasures less 

By pining at our state; 
And, even should misfortunes come, 
I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 

An's^^ thankfu' for them yet. 
They gie the wit of age to youth ; 

They let us ken oursel;^^ 
They make us see the naked truth. 

The real guid and ill. 

28. Sic. Such. 30. An's. And am. 

29. Tent. Heed. 31. Ken oursel. Know ourselves. 



SELECTED POEMS 53 

Tho^ losses and crosses 

Be lessons right severe, 
There^s wit there, ye' 11 get there, 

Ye^U find nae other where. 

VIII 

But tent^^ me, Davie, ace o^ hearts ! 

(To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,^^ 

And flattery I destest) 
This life has joys for you and I, 
And joys that riches ne'er could buy, 

And joys the very best. 
There's a' the pleasures o' the heart, 

The lover an' the f rien' ; 
Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part, 
And I my darling Jean!* 
It warms me, it charms me, 
To mention but her name ; 
It heats me, it beets^* me. 
An' sets me a' on flame ! 

IX 

all ye Pow'rs who rule above ! 
Thou whose very self art love ! 

Thou know'st my words sincere ! 
The life-blood streaming thro' my heart, 
Or my more dear immortal part. 

Is not more fondly dear ! 
When heart-corroding care and grief 

Deprive my soul of rest, 
Her dear idea brings relief 
And solace to my breast. 
Thou Being, All-seeing, 

hear my fervent pray'r ! 
Still take her, and make her 
Thy most peculiar care ! 

Tent. Mark. 34. Beets. Kindles. 

Cartes. Cards. 



54 SELECTED POEMS 

All hail, ye tender feelings dear! 
The smile of love, the friendly tear. 

The sympathetic glow ! 
Long since, this world^s* thorny ways 
Had numbered out my weary days. 

Had it not been for yon ! 
Fate still has blest me with a friend 

In eVry care and ill ; 
And oft a more endearing band, 
A tie more tender still. 
It lightens, it brightens 
The tenebrific scene. 
To meet with, and greet with 
My Davie, or my Jean. 



XI 

0, how that name inspires my style! 
The words come skelpin,^^ rank an^ file, 

Amaist^^ before I ken ! 
The ready measure rinsas fine 
As Phoebns and the famons Nirie* 

"Were glowrin^'' owre my pen. 
My spaviet^^ Pegasns will limp 
Till ance^^ he's fairly het;^^ 
And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp,*^ 
And rin an nnco fit;^^ 

But lest then the beast then 

Should rue this hasty ride, 
V\l light now, and dight^^ now 
His sweaty, wizen'd hide. 

35. Skelpin. Hastening. '40. Het Hot. 

36. Amaist. Almost. 41. Filch, and stilt, and jimp. Hob- 

37. Glowrin, Starinj?. ble and limn and jump. 

38. Snaviet. Spavined. 42. Unro fit. Surprising spurt. 

39. Ance. Once. 43. Dight. Wipe. 



SELECTED POEMS 55 

SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE 

A BROTHEE POET 

[This was written considerably later than the first '^Epistle 
to Davie" — apparently in 1786, after Burns had decided to 
publish his poems (see the fourth stanza) — but is placed here, 
out of chronological order, to keep the related poems together. 
This "Second Epistle" was prefixed to an edition of "Davie's" 
poems in 1789, but was not printed with Burns's poems during 
his lifetime.] 

I 
Auld Neebor, 

I^m three times doubly o^er your debtor 
For your auld-f arrant/ friendly letter; 
Tho' I maun say^t, I doubt ye flatter, 

Ye speak sae fair ; 
For my puir, silly, rhymin clatter 
Some less maun sair.^ 

II 
Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle, 
Lang may your elbuck jink an' diddle,^ 
To cheer you thro' the weary widdle* 

0' war'ly^ cares, 
Till bairns' bairns* kindly cuddle 

Your auld grey hairs. 

Ill 

But Davie, lad, I'm red^ ye're glaikit ;^ 
I'm tauld the muse ye hae negleckit; 
An' gif® it's sae, ye sud^ be licket 

Until ye fyke ;^^ 
Sic han's as you sud ne'er be faiket," 

Be hain't^^ wha like. 

1. Auld-f arrant. S'>or''<^^*nng. 7. Glaikit. Foolish. 

2. Maun sair. Mus* o^—o. 8. Gif. If. 

3. Flbuck link an» diddle. Elbow 9. Pud. Should, 
move nuicVlv, 10. FvVe. Fidget. 

4. WHHie. pfrnoro^K 11. Fai'^et. Let off, excused. 

6. War'ly. Worldly. 12. F«»'i't wha like. Spared 'who 

6. Red. Afraid. likes. 



t56 SELECTED POEMS 

IV 

For me, I^m on Parnassus' brink,* 

Rivin^^ the words to gar them clink ;^* 

Whyles^^ daez't^^ wi' love, whyles daez^t wi' drink, 

Wi' jads^'' or Masons; 
AnV whyles, but ay owre^^ late, I think 

Braw^^ sober lessons. 

V 

Of a' the thoughtless sons o* man, 
Commen^ me to the bardie clan ; 
Except it be some idle plan 

0' rhymin clink^^ — 
The devil-haet^i that I sud ban!^^— 

They never think. 

VI 

Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin, 

Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin. 

But just the pouchie^^ put the nieve^^ in, 

An^ while ought's there. 
Then, hiltie-skiltie,^^ we gae scrievin,-^ 

An' fash^^ nae mair. 

VII 

Leeze^® me on rhyme ! It's ay a treasure. 
My chief, amaist^^ my only pleasure; 
At hame, a-fiel', at wark or leisure. 

The Muse, poor hizzie!^^ 
Tho^ rough an' raploch^^ be her measure, 

She's seldom lazy. 

13. Rivin. Rending. 23. Pouchie. Pocket. 

14. Gar them clink. Make them 24. Nieve. Fist. 
rime. 25. Hiltie-skiltie. Helter-skelter. 

15. Whyles. Sometimes. 26. Gae scrievin. Go gliding. 

16. Daez't Dazed. 27. Fash. Trouble. 

17. Jads. Jades. 28. Leeze me on. How well I l<«ve 

18. Owre. Too. (literally, dear to me is). 

19. Braw. Fine. 29. Amaist. Almost. 

20. Clink. Jingle. 30. Hizz^'c. Girl. 

21. Devil-haet. The devil have it. 31. Raploch. Homespun. 

22. Ban. Curse. 



SELECTED POEMS 

VIII 

Haud^^ to the Muse, my dainty Davie : 
The warF may play you monie a shavie,^ 
But for the Muse, she^ll never leave ye, 

Tho e^er sae puir, 
Na, even tho^ limpin wi^ the spavie^^ 

Frae door to door. 



EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK 

AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD. — ^APRIL 1, 1785 

[John Lapraik was a little over thirty years older than 
Burns. His song which Burns mentions so flatteringly in 
stanza iii was entitled, 'When I Upon Thy Bosom Lean.*' 
Fasten~een (stanza ii) was the evening before Lent. A 
"rockin" was a festivity in which there was spinning upon 
the "rock" or distaff. Lapraik's ppems were printed at Kil- 
marnock in 1788. Burns was over-generous in his comments 
on Lapraik, to whom he wrote two other poetical epistles.] 

I 
While briers an' woodbines budding green, 
An' paitricks scraichin^ loud at e'en, 
And morning poussie whiddin^ seen. 

Inspire my Muse, 
This freedom, in an unknown f rien^, 

I pray excuse. 

II 
On Fasten-een we had a rockin, 
To ca' the crack^ and weave our stockin; 
And there was muckle^ fun and jokin. 

Ye need na doubt ; 
At length we had a hearty yokin^ 

At sang about.^ 

32. Haud. Hold. 2. Poussie whiddin. Haif .^cud- 

33. Shavie. Trick. ding. 

34. Spavie. Spavin. 3. Ca' the crack. Tell stories. 

4. Muckle. Much. 
1. Paitricks scraichin. Partridges fj. Yokin. Set to. 

screeching. G. Sang about Singing in turn 



58 SELECTED POEMS 

ill 
There was ae^ sang, amang the rest, 
Aboon® them a^ it pleased me best, 
That some kind husband had addrest 

To some sweet wife; 
It thirPd^ the heart-strings thro^ the breast, 

A' to the life. 



IV 

IVe scarce heard ought described sae weel. 
What generous, manly bosoms feel ; 
Thought I, "Can this be Pope, or Steele,* 

Or Seattle's* warkT' 
They tald me 'twas an odd kind chieP^ 

About Muirkirk.* 



V 

It pat me fidgin-f ain^^ to hear% 
And sae about him there I spier't ;^^ 
Then a^ that kent^^ him round declared 

He had ingine;^* 
That nane excelFd it, few cam near't. 

It was sae fine : 



VI 

That, set him to a pint of ale. 

An' either douce^^ or merry tale, 

Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel, 

Or witty catches, 
'Tween Inverness* and Tiviotdale,* 

He had few matches. 

7. Ae. One. 12. Spier't. Asked. 

8. Aboon. Abore. 13. Kert. Knew. 

9. ThirPd. Thrilled, 14. Inglne. Geniiis. 

10. Chiel. Fellow. 15. Douce. Serious. 

11. Pat me fd^in-faia. Made me 
fidget with eagerness. 



SELECTED POEMS 59 

VII 

Then up I gat, an^ swoor an aith,^® 

Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an^ graith,^^ 

Or die a cadger pownie^s^^ death, 

At some dyke-back, 
A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith,^' 

To hear your crack.^® 



VIII 

But, first an' foremost, I should tell, 
Amaist as soon as I could spell, 
I to the crambo-jingle^^ fell ; 

Tho' rude an' rough, , 
Yet crooning to a body's sel 

Does weel eneugh. 



IX 

I am nae poet, in a sense. 

But just a rhymer, like, by chance, 

An' hae to learning nae pretence; 

Yet, what the matter? 
Whenever my Muse does on me glance, 

I jingle at her. 



X 

Your critic-folk may cock their nose. 
And say, ^^How can you e'er propose. 
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose. 

To mak a sang?" 
But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 

Ye're maybe wraiig. 

6. Swoor an aith. Swore an oath. 19. Gie them baith. Qiv© them hot !». 

7. Pleugb an' graith. Plow and 20. Crack. Talk. 

tools. 21. Crambo-jingle. Rimini^. 

8. Cadger pownie. Carrier pony. 



60 SELECTED POEMS 

XI 
What's q! your jargon o^ your schools. 
Your Latin names for horns an' stools? 
If honest Nature made you fools. 

What sairs^^ your grammars ? 
Ye^d better taen up spades and shools,^^ 

Or knappin-hammers.^* 

XII 

A set o' dull, conceited hashes^^ 
Confuse their brains in college-classes! 
They gang in stirks,^^ and come out asses. 

Plain truth to speak; 
An^ syne^^ they think to climb Parnassus* 

By dint o' Greek! 

XIII 

Gie me ae^® spark o^ Nature's fire. 

That's a' the learning I desire; 

Then tho' I drudge thro' dub^^ an' mire 

At plough or cart. 
My Muse, tho' hamely in attire. 

May touch the heart. 

XIV 

for a spunk^® o' Allan's* glee. 
Or Pergusson's, the bauld an' slee,®^ 
Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be. 

If I can hit it! 
That would be lear^^ eneugh for me. 

If I could get it. 

22. Sairs. Serve. 27. Syne. Then. 

23. Shools. Shovels. 28. Ae. One. 

24. Knappin-hammers. Hammers for 29. Dub. Puddle, 
breaking stone. 30. Spunk. Spark. 

25. Hashes. Dunderheads. 31. Bauld an* slee. Bold and sly. 

26. Stirks. Calves more than a year 32. Lear. Learning, 
old. 

r 



I 



SELECTED POEMS 61 

XV 
Now, sir,' if ye hae friends enow, 
Tho' real friends I b'lieve are few, 
Yet, if your catalogue be fow,^^ 

I^se no^* insist; 
But, gif^^ ye want ae friend that's true, 

Fm on your list. 



XVI 

I winna blaw about mysel. 

As ill I like my fauts to tell; 

But friends, an' folks that wish me well, 

They sometimes roose^® me; 
Tho^ I maun own, as monie still 

As far abuse me. 



XVII 

There's ae wee faut they whyles^^ lay to me, 

I like the lasses — Gude forgie^® me! 

For monie a plack^^ they wheedle frae me 

At dance or fair; 
]Maybe some ither thing they gie me. 

They weel can spare. 



XVIII 

But Mauchline Eace or Mauchline Fair, 
I should be proud to meet you there; 
We'se gie^^ ae night's discharge to care. 

If we forgatlier. 
An' liae a swap o' rhymin-ware 

Wi' ane anither. 

; • Fow. Full. 37. Whyles. Sometimes. 

.>4. I'se no. I shall not. 38. Gude forgie. God forgive. 

3."). Gif. If. 30. Plack. A smnll coin. 

3(). Roose. Praise. 40. We'se gie. Wo shall g'wo. 



62 SELECTED POEMS 

XIX 

The four-gill chap,*^ we'se gar^^ him clatter, 
An^ kirsen^^ him wi^ reekin** water; 
Syne we^ll sit down an^ tak our whitter/^ 

To cheer our heart; 
An^ faith, we'se be acquainted better 

Before we part. 

XX 

Awa, ye selfish, warly ^^ race, 

Wha think that havins/^ sense, an' grace, 

Ev'n love an' friendship, should give place 

To catch-the-plack !^ 
I dinna like to see your face, 

Nor hear your crack."*^ 

XXI 

But ye whom social pleasure charms. 
Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, 
A^Tio hold your being on the terms, 

"Each aid the others,'' 
Come to my bowl, come to my arms. 

My friends, my brothers! 

XXII 

But, to conclude my lang epistle. 

As my auld pen's worn to the grissle. 

Two lines fra;e you wad gar me fissle,^® 

Who am most fervent, 
While I can either sing or whissle, 

Your friend and servant. 

41. Chap. A quart measure, made 47. Havins. Good behavior. 

of brass. 48. Catch-the-plack. Catch the 

42. Gar. Make. penny (a g-^me). 

43. Kirsen. Christen. 49. Crack. Talk. 

44. Reekin. Steaming 50. Gar me fissle. Make me tin^ie 

45. Whitter. A bp^rty draught. • with delight. 

46. Warly. Worldly. 



SELECTED POEMS 6:^ 

EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON 

SCHOOLIMASTER, OCHILTREE. — ^MAY, 1785 

[This correspondent of Burns was a few months the poet's 
senior; he was the son of a farmer in the parisn of Ochiltree, 
not far east of Ayr; after being educated at the University of 
Glasgow he became scho^master at Oc^iiltree in 1780. 

This epistle, like some of the other personal epistles in this 
volume and like "The Vision," which is not included here, is 
interesting as an expression of Burns's ambition to be pri- 
marily a patriotic poet — a "Scottish bard" — and of the way in 
which the natural scenes in which he lived inspired him to 
composition.] 

I 
I gat your letter, winsome Willie; 
Wi' gratefu^ heart I thank you brawlie;* 
Tho' I maun sa/t, I wad be silly 

And unco^ vain. 
Should I believe, my coaxin billie,® 
Your flatterin strain. 

II 
But I^se* believe ye kindly meant it : 
I sud be laith^ to think ye hinted 
Tronic satire, sidelins sklented^ 

On my poor Musie; 
Tho' in sic phraisin^ terms ye\e penned it, 

I scarce excuse ye. 

Ill 

My senses wad be in a creel,^ 
Should I but dare a hope to speel,^ 
Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilbertfield,* 

The braes^® o' fame; 
Or Fergusson, the writer-chiel/^ 

A deathless name. 

1. Brawlie. Heartily. 7. Phraisin. Flattering. 

2. Unco. Very. 8. Creel. An osier basket (the 

3. Billie. Fellow, brother. line means, *'I should be i^r- 

4. I'se. I shall. ploxed). 

6. Sud be laith. Should be loath 0. Soeel. Climb. 

6. Sidelins sklented. Sidewise 10. Braes. Pillsides. 

squinted. 11. Writer-chiel. Lawsror chap. 



64 SELECTED POEMS 

IV 

(0 Pergusson! thy glorious parts 

111 suited law^s dry, musty arts! 

My curse upon your whunstane^^ hearts, 

Ye E^nbrugh gentry!* 
The tythe o' what ye waste at cartes 

Wad stowed his pantry!) 



Yet when a tale conies i^ my head. 
Or lassies gie my heart a screed^^— 
As whiles they're like to be my dead, 

(0 sad disease!) 
I kittle^* up my rustic reed; 

It gies me ease. 

VI 

Auld Coila^^ now may fidge fu' fain,^® 

She's gotten poets o' her ain; 

Chiels wha their chanters winna hain,^^ 

But tune their lays. 
Till echoes a' resound again 

Her weel-sung praise. 

VII 

Nae poet thought her worth his while 

To set her name in measured style; \ 

She lay like some unken'd-of isle 

Beside New Holland,* 
Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil 

Besouth^^ Magellan. 

12. Whunstane. Whinstone — a kind 16. Fidge fu» fain. Wriggle with 
of hard stone. eagerness. 

13. Screed. Rip or rent. 17. Chanters winna hain. Bagpipes 

14. Kittle. Tickle. will not spare. 

15. Coila. Kyle, the portion of 18. Besouth. To the south of. 
Ayrshire in which Burns lived. 



SELECTED POEMS 65 

VIII 

liamsay an^ famous Fergusson 
Gied Forth an^ Tay a lift aboon;^^ 
Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune, 

Owre Scotland rings; 
While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, an' Doon* 

Naebody sings. 

IX 

Th' missus,* Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, 
Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line : 
But, "Willie, set your fit^^ to mine, 

An' cock your crest; 
We'll gar^^ our streams an' bumies^^ shine 

Up wi' the best. 

X 

We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells, 
Her moors red-brown wi^ heather bells. 
Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, 

Whare glorious Wallace 
Aft bure the gree,^^ as story tells, 

Frae Southron billies.^* 



XI 

At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood 
But boils up in a spring-tide flood! 
Oft have our fearless fathers strode 

By Wallace' side, 
Still pressing onward, red-wat-shod,^^ 

Or glorious died! 

19. Aboon. Above. , 24. Southron billies. Southern fel- 

20. Fit. Foot. lows, the EnjrlLsh. 

21. Gar. Make, cnu8e. 25. Red-wat-shod. Rod-wot -s!^ocl, 

22. Burnies. Brooklets. wading in blood. 

23. Bure the gree. Pore off the 
prize, won the victory. 



36 SELECTED POEMS 

XII 

sweet are Coila's hanghs^ an woods^ 
"When lintwhites^^ chant amang the buds, 
And jinkin^® hares, in amorous whids,^® 

Their loves enjoy; 
While thro' the braes the cushat creeds^® 

With wailfu' cry ! 



XIII 

Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me, 
When winds rave thro' the naked tree; 
Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 

Are hoary gray; 
Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, 

Darkening the day ! 



XIV 

Nature! a' thy shews and forms 
To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! 
Whether the summer kindly warms, 

Wi' life an' light; 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms. 

The lang, dark night! 



XV 

The Muse, nae poet ever fand her. 
Till by himsel he learn'd to wander, 
Adown soma trottin burn's meander,^^ 

An' no think lang: 
sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder 

A heart-felt sang! 

26. Haughs. Valleys. 30. Cushat croods. Wood pigeon 

27. Lintwhites. Linnets. coos. 

28. Jinkin. Frisking. 31. Burn^s meander. Brook's wind- 

29. Whids. Gambols. ing. 



SELECTED POEMS 67 

XVI 
The warly^^ race may drudge an' drive, 
Hog-shonther, jundie/^ stretch, an' strive; 
Let me fair Nature's face descrive/^^ 

And I, wi' pleasure, 
Shall let the busy, gumbling hive 

Bum^^ owre their treasure. 



XVII 

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing brither ! 
We've been owre lang unken'd to ither : 
Xow let us lay our heads thegither, 

In love fraternal: 
May Envy wallop^® in a tether, 

Black fiend, infernal! 

XVIII 

While Highlandmen hate tolls an' taxes ; 
^Miile moorlan' herds like guid, fat braxie? ;^'' 
While terra firma, on her axis, 

Diurnal turns; 
Count on a friend, in faith an' practice. 

In Robert Burns. 



32. Warly. Worldly. 36. Wallop. Move quickly but 

33. Ho^-shouther, jundie. Jostle clunisily. 

with fho shoulder. 37. Braxies. Sheen that hnve died 

34. Descrive. Describe. of the disease called braxie. 
3.'). Bum. Hum. 



4 

i 



68 SELECTED POEMS 

HOLY WILLIE'S PEAYER 

"And send the godly in a pet to pray," — ^Pope. 

[Written early in 1785; not included by Burns in any 
authorized edition during his life, but evidently widely known. 
'vHoly Willie'* was William Fisher, an elder in the parish 
church at Mauchline. He was a zealous assistant of the 
pastor, the Rev. Mr. Auld, in watching the morals of the 
parishioners, in spite of the fact that his own conduct was at 
least questionable. Those to whom the poem seems irreverent 
should remember tliat the poet is merely parodying the com- 
placent utterances of a self-righteous hypocrite of tlie intolerant 
"Auld Licht" party. Burns unquestionably "had a grudge" 
against *'Holy W^illie," perhaps on his own account, certainly 
on behalf of his friend Gavin Hamilton; but here, as in the 
"Address to the Unco Guid," (page 156) he is primarily ex- 
pressing matchless satire against self-righteous hypocrisy 
masquerading under the cloak of religion. 

Gau'n Hamilton (stanza xi) was a writer (that is, attor- 
ney ) in Mauchline, friend and patron of Burns. Not long 
before this poem was written, Hamilton had been charged, 
probably by "Holy Willie," with various violations of the 
strict church discipline, and a church feud had arisen in which 
Burns took ardent part on the "New Licht," or liberal side. 
Robert Aiken (stanza xiv) was Hamilton's counsel in the 
trial before the Presbytery of Ayr ( stanza xiii ) , which de- 
cided in favor of Hamilton. Burns once said that Aiken had 
"read" him (the poet) "into fame."] 

I 

Thou, that in the Heavens does dwell, 
WTia, as it pleases best Thysel, 
Sends ane to Heaven an' ten to Hell, 

A' for Thy glory. 
And no for onie gnid or ill 

TheyVe done before Thee! 

II 

1 bless and praise Thy matchless might. 
When thousands Thou hast left in night. 
That I am here before Thy sight. 

For gifts an' grace, 
A burning and a shining light 
To a' this place. 



SELECTLD POEMS . 69 

III 
What was I, or my generation. 
That I should get sic^ exaltation? 
I, wha deserved most just damnation y 

For broken laws, 
Sax^ thousand years ere my creation, 

Thro' Adam's cause? 

IV 

When from my mither's womb I fell, 
Thou might hae plung'd me deep in hell^ 
To gnash my gooms^ and weep and wail 

In burning lakes. 
Where damned devils roar and yell. 

Chained to their stakes, 

V 

Yet I am here, a chosen sample. 

To show Thy grace is great and ample ; 

I'm here, a pillar o' Thy temple. 

Strong as a rock, 
A guide, a buckler, and example 

To a' Thy flock. 

VI 

But yet, Lord! confess I must, 
At times I'm fash'd* wi' fleshly lust; 
An' sometimes, too, in warldly trust, ' 

Vile self gets in; 
But Thou remembers we are dust, 

Defil'd wi' sin. 



1. Sic. Such. :\. Gooms. Gums. 

2. Sax. Six. 4. Fash'd. Troubled. 



70 



SELECTED POEMS 



IX 
Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn 
Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn^ 
Lest he owre^ proud and high should turn^ 

That he's sae gifted; 
If sae^ Thy han' maun^ e'en be borne 

Until Thou lift it. 



Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place. 
For here Thou hast a chosen race ; 
But God confound their stubborn face, 

An' blast their name, 
Wha bring Thj^ elders to disgrace 

An^ public shame. 



XI 

Lord, mind Gau'n Hamilton's deserts! 
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartes, 
Yet has sae mony takin arts 

Wi' great and sma^, 
Frae God's ain priest the people^s hearts 

He steals awa. 



XII 

And when we chasten'd him therefor. 
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,^ 
And 6et the warld in a roar 

0' laughin at us — 
Curse Thou his. basket and his store, 



KaiP an' potatoes ! 



5. Owre. Over, too. 

6. Maun. Must. 

7. Bred eic a splore. 
row. 



Raised su^^h a 



S. Kail. C-^bbage in general or, 
more specifically, colewort. 



SELECTED POEMS 

XIII 

Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r 

Against that PresbyJ:'ry of Ayr! 

Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak it bare 

Upo' their heads! 
Lord, visit them, an^ dinna^ spare. 

For their misdeeds ! 



XIV 

Lord, my. God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken I 

My vera heart and flesh are quakin. 

To think how we stood sweatin, shakin, 

An^ filled wi^ dread. 
While he, wi' hinging lip an' snakin,^** 

Held up his head. 



XV 

Lord, in Thy day o' vengeance try him! 
Lord, visit them wha did employ him! 
And pass not in Thy mercy by them. 

Nor hear their pra/r; 
But for Thy people's sake destroy them. 

An' dinna spare! 



XVI 

But, Lord, remember me and mine 
*Wi' mercies temporal and divine. 
That I for grace an' gear^^ may shine, 
Excell'd by nane: 
• And a' the glory shall be Thine — 
Amen, Amen ! 



9. Dinna. Do not. 

10. Snakin. Sneering. 

11. Gear. Wealth. 



72 SELECTED POEMS / 

EPISTLE TO THE EEV. JOHN McMATH 

INCLOSING A COPY OP '"'hOLY WILLIE^'s PRAYER/' WHICH 

HE HAD REQUESTED. ^EPT. 17^ 1785. 

[The Reverend Mr. McMath was a young "New Liclit" 
minister with whom Burns had some acquaintance. This 
poem alludes to the prosecution of Gavin Hamilton ("Gaw'n," 
stanza v) which is also mentioned in "Holy Willie's Prayer," 
and is a defense of the part Burns himself took in the con- 
trover'Sy. On the whole it is one of the best expressions of* 
the poet's contempt for hypocrisy and intolerance, while at 
the same time it — taken with many passages in his letters — 
demonstrates a sincere reverence for religion of a kindly and 
charitable sort. Burns never included this epistle in his col- 
lected works; it was first printed long after his death in 
Oromek's Reliques of Robert Burns, LS08.] 

I 
While at the stook^ the shearers^ cow'r 
To shun the bitter blaudin^ show'r, 
Or in gulravage rinnin seowr;^ 

To pass the time^ 
To yon I dedicate the hour 

In idle rh3^ine. 

II 
My musie, tir^d wi' mony a sonnet 
On gown, an' ban'/ an' douse^ black bonnet, 
Is grown right eerie*^ now she's done it. 

Lest thej^ should blame her, 
An' rouse their holy thunder on it 

And anathem® her. 



Ill 
T own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy. 
That I, a simple country bardie, 

1. Stook. Shock. 5. Ban*. Band (of a clergyman— 

2. Shearers. Reapers. a portion of the regular ministc- 

3. Blaudin. Dnving. rial attire). 

4. Gulravage rinnin scowr. Horse- 6. Douse. Sedate, 
play run swiftly 7. Eerie. Frightened. 

8. Anathfem. Curse. 



SELECTED POEMS 73 

Should meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy, 

Wha, if they ken® me, 
Can easy, wi' a single wordie, 

Louse^® hell upon me. 

IV 

But I gae^^ mad at their grimaces, 
Their sighin, cantin, grace-proud faces. 
Their three-mile prayers, an' hauf-mile graces, 

Their raxin^^ conscience, 
Whase greed, revenge, an' pride disgraces 

Waur nor^^ their nonsense. 

V 

There's Gaw'n, ^isca'd^"^ waur than a beast, 
Wha has mair honor in his breast 
Than mony scores as guid's^^ the priest 

Wha sae abus'd him: 
And may a bard no crack Jais jest 

What way^® they've used him? 

VI 

See him, the poor man's friend in need, 
The gentleman in word an' deed — 
An' shall his faJbe an' honor bleed 

By worthless skellums,^'' 
An' not a muse erect her head 

To cowe the blellums?^® 

VII 

Pope, had I thy satire's darts 
To gie^® the rascals theii; deserts, 
I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts. 

An' tell aloud 
Their jugglin, hocus-pocus arts 

To cheat the crowd. 

9. Ken. Know. 15. Guid's. Good as. 

10. Louse. Loose. 16, What way. On the way. 

hi. Gae. Go. 17. Skellums. Good-for-nothings. 

12. Raxin. Elastic. 18. Blellums. Bluaterors. 

13. Waur nor. Worse than. 19. Gie. Give. 

14. Misca'd. Miscalled, abused. 



74 SELECTED 1»0EMS 

VIII 
God knows, I'm no the thing I should be, 
Not am I even the thing I could be. 
But twenty times I rather would be 

An atheist clean, 
Then under gospel colors Lid be, 

Just for a screen. 

IX 

An honest man may like a glass. 

An honest man may like a lass. 

But mean revenge, an' malice fause^® 

He'll still disdain. 
An' then cry zeal for gospel* laws. 

Like some we ken. 

X 

They take religiontin their mouth; 
They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth, 
For what? — to gie their malice skouth^^ 

On some puir wight. 
An' hunt him. down, owre^^ right and ruthj 

To ruin streight. 

XI 

All hail, Eeligion, maid divine! 
Pardon a muse sae mean as mine, 
^Yho in her rough imperfect line 

Thus daurs^^ to name thee; 
To stigmatise false friends of thine 

Can ne'er defame thee. 

XII 

Tho' blotch't and foul wi' mony a stain, 
An' far unworthy of thy train, 

20. Pause. False. 22. Owre. Agamst. 

21. Skouth. Vent. 23. Daurs. Diires. 



SELECTED POEMS • 75 

Witli trembling voice I tune my strain 

To join with those 
AVho boldly dare thy cause maintain 

In spite of foes : 

XIII 

In spite o^ crowds, in spite o' mobs. 
In spite o^ undermining jobs. 
In spite o' dark banditti stabs 

At worth an' merit. 
By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes. 

But hellish spirit. 

XIV 

Ayr ! my dear, my native ground. 
Within thy presbyterial bound 
A candid liberal band is found 

Of public teachers. 
As men, as Christians too, renown'd, 

An' manly preachers. 

XV 

Sir, in that circle you are nam'd; 

Sir, in that circle you are f am'd : 

An' some, by whom your doctrine's blam'd 

(Which gies you honor). 
Even, sir, by them your heart's esteem' d. 

An' winning manner. 

XVI 

Pardon this freedom I have ta'en. 
An' if impertinent I've been, ^ 
Impute it not, good sir, in ane 

AAliase heart ne'er wrang'd ye, 
But to his utmost would befriend 

Ought that belang'd ye. 



76 



SELECTED POEMS 



THE HOLY FAIE* 

A robe of seeming truth and trust 

Hid crafty observation ; 
And secret hung, with poison'd crust. 

The dirk of defamation: * 

A mask that Uke the gorget show'd, 

Di'e-varying on the pigeon ; 
And for a mantle large and broad, 

He wsapt him in Religion. 

Hypockisy a-la-mode. 

[Dated "Autumn 1785" in the manuscript in Burns's own 
hand at Kilmarnock. This is probably the most important of 
Burns's satires of abuses in the name of religion. "Holy 
fair," says Burns's own note, "is a common phrase in the 
west of Scotland for a sacramental occasion." The event 
Avas evidently a sort of religious picnic. Of the preachers 
mentioned in this poem all but one (Smith) were of the 
"Auld Licht" party. Peebles (stanza xvi) published an at- 
tack on Burns after the latter's death, under the title 
Burnomania, The comments on Smith (stanzas xiv, xv) are 
intended to be complimentary, the meaning being that he is 
too sensible and reasonable to please such a crowd,] 



Upon a simmer^ Sunday morn, 

When Nature's face is fair, 
I walked forth to view the corn, 

An' snuff the caller^ air. 
The rising sun, owre Galston* muirs, 

Wi' glorious light was glintin; 
The hares were hirplin^ down tlie furs,* 

The lav'rocks^ they were chantin 
Fu' sweet that day. 



II 



As lightsomely I glowr'd^ abroad. 

To see a scene sae gay, 
Three hizzies,^ early at the road. 

Cam skelpin^ up the way. 



1. Simmer. Summer. 

2. Caller. Fresh. 

3. Hirplin. Limping. 

4. Furs. Furrows, 



6. Lav'rocks. Larks. 
•6. Glowr'd. Stared. 

7. Hizzies. Hussies, young women. 

8. Skelpin. Hurrying. 



SELECTED POEMS 77 

Twa had manteeles o^ dolefu^ black. 

But ane wi' lyart^ lining; 
The thirds that gaed^® a wee a-back, 

Was in the fashion shining 
Fu^ gay that day. , 

III 
The twa appeared like sisters twin, 

In feature, form, an^ claes;^^ 
Their visage withered, lang an^ thin, 

An^ sour as ony slaes :^^ 
The third cam up, hap-stap-an'-lowp,^^ 

As light as ony lambie, ^ 

An^ wi^ a curchie^* low did stoop, 

As soon as e^er she saw me, 

• Fu' kind that day. 

IV 

Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, *' Sweet lass, 

I think ye seem to ken^^ me; 
I'm sure IVe seen that bonie face, 

But yet I canna name ye/' 
Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak. 

An' taks me by the ban's, 
"Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck^^ 

Of a' the Ten Comman's 

A screed^^ some day. 

V 

"My name is Fun — your cronie dear. 

The nearest friend ye hae; ^ 
An' this is Superstition here. 

An' that's Hypocrisy. 

9. Lyart Gray. 14. Curchie. Curtsey. 

10. Gaed. Went. 15. Ken. Know. 

11. Claes. Clothes. 1(5. Feck. Greater part. 

12. Slaes. Sloes. 17. Screed. Rip. 

13. Hap-stap-aa'-!owp. Hop, step, 
and jump. 



78 



SELECTED POEMS 



I'm gaun^^ to Mauchline holy fair^ 

To spend an hour in daffin:^^ 
Gin^^ ye'll go there^ yon ninkl'd^^ pair. 

We will get famous laughin 
At them this day.'^ 

VI 

Quoth I, "With a' my heart I'll do^t; 

I'll get my Sunday's sark^^ on^ 
An^ meet you on the holy spot; 

Faith, we'se hae^^ fine remarkin !'' 
Then I gaed^* hame at crowdie-^^time. 

An' soon I made me ready; 
For roads were clad, frae side to side, 

Wi' monie a wearie body, 

In droves that day. • 

VII 

Here farmers gasli,^^' in ridin graith,^^ 

Gaed hoddin^^ by their cotters; 
There swankies^^ young? in braw braid-claith,^^ 

Are springing owre the gutters. 
The lasses, skelpin barefit,^^ thrang,^^ 

In silks an' scarlets glitter; 
Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang,^^ 

An' farls,3^ bak'd wi' butter, 

Fu' crump^-^ that day. 

VIII 

ll^Tien by the plate we set our nose, 
Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence. 



18. Gaun. Going. 

19. Daffin. Fun. 

20. Gin. If. 

21. Runkl'd. Wrinkled. 

22. Sark. Shirt. 

23. We'se hae. We shall have. 

24. Gaed. Went. 

25. Crowdie. Porridge. 

26. Gash. Wise. 

27. Graith. Array. 



28. Hoddin. Jolting. 

29. Swankies. Strapping fellows. 

30. Braw braid-claitii. Fine broad- 
cloth. 

31. Skelpin barefit. Hurrying bare- 
foot. 

32. Thrang. Crowded. 

33. Whang. A large slice. 

34. Farls. Thin oat-cakes. 

35. Fu' crump. Full crisp. 



SELECTED POEMS 79 



A greedy glowx^^ black-bonnet* throws, 
An^ we maun draw our tippenee.^^ 

Then in we go to see the show: 
On ev'ry side they're gath'rin; 

Some carryin dails/^ some chairs an^ stools. 
An' some are busy bleth'rin^^ 
Eight loud that day. 

X 

Here some are thinkin on their sins, • 

An' some upo' their claes;*^ 
Ane curses feet that fyPd^^ his shins, 

Anither sighs an' prays: 
On this hand sits a chosen swatch,^^ 

Wi' screw'd-up, grace-proud faces; 
On that a set o' chaps, at watch, 

Thrang^^' winkin on the lasses 
To chairs that day. 



XII 

Now a' the congregation o'er 

Is silent expectation ; 
For Moodie speels^* the holy door, 

Wi' tidings o' damnation. 
Should Homie,^^ as in ancient days, 

'Mang sons o' God present him,* 
The vera sight o' Hoodie's face 

To 's ain het hame*^ had sent him 
Wi' fright that day. 

36. Glowr. Stare. 42. Swatch. Sample. 

37. Tippence. Two-pence. 43. Thrang. Busy. 

38. Dails. Deals, planks. 44. Speels. Climbs. 
30. Bleth'rin. Talking nonsense. 45. Hornie. The devil. 

40. Claes. Clothes. 46. To 's ain het hame. To l\is own 

41. Fyl'd. Defiled, dirtied. hot liome. 



80 SELECTED POEMS 

XIII 
Hear how he clears Jhe points o' Faith 

Wi' rattlin an' thumpin! 
ISTow meekly calm, now wild in wrath, 

He's stampin, an' he's jnmpin! 
His lengthened chin, his turned-up snout. 

His eldritch^^ squeel an' gestures, 
how they fire the heart devout, 

Like cantharidian plaisters^^ 
On sic^^ a day! 

XIV 

- But hark! the tent has chang'd its voice; 
There's peace an' rest nae langer; 
For a' the real judges rise. 

They canna sit for anger. 
Smith opens out his cauld harangues. 

On practice and on morals; 
An' aff the godly pour in thrangs. 
To gie^^ the jars an' barrels 
A lift that day. 

XV 

What signifies his barren shine, 
Of moral pow'rs an' reason ? 
His English style, an' gesture fine, 

Are a' clean out o' season. 
Like Socrates or Antonine,* 

Or some auld pagan heathen. 
The moral man he does define. 
But ne'er a word o' faith in 

That's right that day. 



47. Eldritch. Unearthly. 49. Sic. Such. 

48. Cantharidian plaisters. Blister- 50. Gie. Give, 
ing plasters. 



^ 



SELECTED POEMS 81 

XVI 
In guid time comes an antidote 

Against sic poison'd nostrum; 
For Peebles, frae the water-fit/^ 

Ascends the holy rostrum : 
See, up he's got the word o' God, 

An' meek an' mim^^ has view'd it. 
While Common-sense has taen^^ the road, 

An' aif, an' up the Cowgate* 
Fast, fast that day. 

XVII 

Wee Miller niest^* the guard relieves. 

An' orthodoxy raibles,^^ 
Tho^ in his heart he weel believes 

An' thinks it auld wives' fables: 
But faith ! the birkie^^ wants a manse. 

So cannilie he hums^^ them; 
Altho' his carnal wit an' sense 

Like hafiBins-wise^^ o'ercomes him 
At times that day. 

XVIII 

i\^ow butt an' ben^^ the change-house*"'^ fills, 

Wi' yill-caup^^ commentators; 
Here's crying out for bakes an' gills,^^ 

An' there the pint-sto^vp^^ clatters; 
AV^hile thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, 

Wi' logic and wi' Scripture, 
They raise a din, that in the end 

Is like to breed a rupture 
0' wrath that day. 

51. Water-fit. Water-foot, river's 58. Like hafflins-wise. Almost halt 
mouth. 69. Butt an* ben. • In rear and front. 

52. Mim. Prim. > 60. Change-house. Tavern. 

53. Taen, Taken. 61. Yill-caup. AK'-cup. 

.54. Niest. Next. 62. Bakes an' ^ills. Biscuits and 

55. Raibles. Gabbles. glasses of whiskey. 

56. Birkie. Conceited fellow. 63. Pint-stowp. A two-quart mo.n- 

57. Cannilie he hums. Prudently he sure (a Scottish pint equaled 
tricks. two English quarts). 



82 SELECTED POEMS 

XIX 

Leeze me on drink !®* it gies us mair 

Than either school or college; 
It kindles wit, it waukens lear,^^ 

It pangs us fou^^ o^ knowledge. 
Be^t whisky-gill or penny wheep/^ 

Or ony stronger potion, 
It never fails, on drinkin deep. 

To kittle^^ up our notion. 
By night or day, 

XX 

The lads an^ lasses, blythely bent 

To mind baith saul an^ body. 
Sit round the table, weel content. 

An' steer^^ about the toddy. 
On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk. 

They're makin observations; 
While some are cozie i' the neuk,''^ 

An' formin assignations 

To meet some day. 

XXI 

But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts ^ 

Till a' the hills are rairin,^^ 
And echoes back return the shouts; 

Black Eussell is na spairin: 
His piercin words, like Highlan' swords, 

Divide the joints an' marrow; 
His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell. 

Our vera ^^auls does harrow"* 
Wi' fright that day ! 

64. Leeie me on drink. Dear to me 68. Kittle. Tickle, 
is drink. 69. Steer. Stir. 

65. Waukens lear. Wakens learning. 70. Neuk. Corner. 

66. Pangs us fou. Crams us full. 71. Rairin. Roaring. 

67. Penny wheep. Small beer. 



SELECTED POEMS 83 

XXII 
A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, 

Fiird fou o^ lowin brunstane,^^ 
AA'ha^s ragin flame, an^ scorchin heat. 

Wad melt the hardest whun-stane V^ 
The half asleep start up wi' fear, 

An^ think they hear it roarin; 
When presently it does appear, 

'Twas but some neebor snorin 
Asleep that day. 

XXIII 

^Twad be owre lang a tale to tell. 

How monie stories past; 
An' how they crouded to the yill/^ 

When they were a' dismist; 
How drink gaed round, in cogs and caups/^ 

Amang the furms^^ an' benches; 
x\n' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps. 

Was dealt about in lunches,^'' * • 

An' dawds^^ that day. 

XXIV 

In comes a gawsie, gash^^ guidwife. 

An' sits down by the fire, 
Syne*^ draws her kebbuck^^ an' her knife ; 

The lasses they are shyer. 
The auld guidmen, about the grace, 

Frae side to side they bother. 
Till some ane by his bonnet lays, 

An' gies them't,^^ like a tether, 
Pu' lang that day.* 

72. Lowin brunstane. Burning brim- 77. Lunches. Ftill portions. 
tstone. 4 78. Dawds. I;unips. 

73. Whun-stane. Granite. 79. Gawsie, gash. Buxom, sa«o. 

74. YUl. Alo. SO. Syne. Then. 

75. Cogs and caups. Wooden d'^ink- SI. Kebbuck. Cheese. 

ing vessels. S2. Gies them*t. Gives it to tliom. 

70. Furms. Woodon forn-^.. 



-4 - SELECTED POEMS 

XXV 
Waesucks!^^ for him that gets nae lass. 

Or lasses that hae naething! 
Sma^ need has he to say a grace, 

Or melvie^* his braw claithing ! 
wives, be mindfu', ance yoursel. 

How bonie lads ye wanted; ^ 

An' dinna for a kebbuck-heeP^ 

Let lasses be affronted 
On sic a day! 

XXVI 

Xow Cb'nkumbell,^^ wi' rattlin tow/^^ 

Begins to jow an^ croon ;^^ 
Some swagger hame the best they dow,®^ 

Some wait the afternoon. 
At slaps^^ the billies^^ halt a blink/^ 

Till lasses strip their shoon:®^ ' 

Wi^ faith an^ hope, an^ love an^ drink, 

They^re a^ in famous tnne 

For crack®* that day. 

xxvii 

How monie hearts this day converts 

0' sinners and o^ lasses! 
Their hearts o' stane, gin®^ night, are gane 

As saft as ony flesh is. 
There's some are f ou o' love divine ; 

There's some are ion o' brandy; 
An' monie jobs that day begin. 

May end in honghmagandie®^ 
Some ither day. 

83. Waesucks! Alas! 89. Dow. Can. 

84. Melvie. Soil. 90. Slaps. Openings in fencee. 

85. Kebbuck-heel. Remnant of 91. Billies. Young fellows, 
cheese. 92. Blink. Moment. 

86. Clinkumbell. The bell-ringer. 93. Shoon. Shoes. 

87. Tow. Rope. 94. Crack. Talk. 

88. Jow an* croon. Swing and ring 95. Gin. Bv. 

(the bell). 96. Houghmagandie. Disgrace. 



SELECTED POEMS 86 

HALLOWEEN" 

*'YesI let the rich deride, the proud disdain. 
The Biinpie pleasures of the lowly train; 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art." — Goldsmith. 

[Written in the autumn of 1785. The stanzaic form is like 
that of ''The Holy Fair" ( see page 307 ) . Burns wrote a set of 
notes explaining the customs portrayed, which will be found, 
as far as needed, on pages 308-310.] 

I 
Ilpon that night, when fairies light 
^ On Cassilis Downans* dance, 

Or owre the lays/ in splendid blaze, 

On sprightly coursers prance; 
Or for Colean the rout is taen, 

Beneath the moon^s pale beams; 
There, up the Cove,* to stray an' rove, 
Amang the rocks an' streams 
To sport that night. 

II 

Amang the bonie, winding banks. 

Where Doon rins, wimpliii,^ clear, 
A¥here Bruce ance ruPd the martial ranks, 

An' shook his Carrick spear,* 
Some merry, friendly, countra folks 

Together did convene. 
To burn their nits,^ an' pou their stocks,* 

An' haud^ their Halloween 

Fu' blythe that night. 

Ill 
The lasses feat,^ an' cleanly neat, 

Mair braw^ than when they're fine; 
Their faces blythe fu' sweetly kythe^ 

Hearts leal,® an' warm, an' kin': 

1. Lays. Pastures. 5. Haud. Hold, keep. 

2. WimpUn. Winding. 6^. Feat. Tiiui. 

". Nits. Nuts. 7. Mair braw. Moro b-.Tvi^w,,,.. 

1. Pou their stocks. Pull tiuMr H. Kythe. Show, 

btulks. {*. Leal. Loyul. 



86 



ELECTED POEMS 



The lads sae trig/" wi' wooer-babs^^ 

Weel-knotted on their garten/^ 
Some unco blate/^ an^ some wi' gabs^^ 

Gar^^ lasses' hearts gang startin 

Whyles^^ fast at night.*' 

IV 

Then, first an' foremost, thro' the kail/" 

Their stocks mann^^ a' be sought ance :"' 
They steek their een/^ an' grape an' wale^^ 

.For mnckle anes/^ an' stranght^^ anes. 
Poor hav'reP^ Will fell aff the drift/^ 

An' wandered thro' the bow-kail,^^ 
An' pou't,^^ for want o' better shift,^^ 

A runt/^ was like a sow-tail, 

Sae bow't-^ that night. 



Then, straught or crooked, yird^^ or nane, 

They roar an' cry a' throu'ther ;^^ 
The vera wee-things, toddlin, rin,^^ 

Wi' stocks ont-owre their shouther ;^^ 
An' gif^* the cnstock's^^ sweet or sour, 

Wi' joctelegs^^ they taste them; 
Syne^^ coziely, aboon^^ the door, 

Wi' cannie^^ care, they've plac'd them 
To lie that night. 



* * ?!« 

10. Trig. Neat. 

11. Wooer-babs. Love-krots. 

12. Garten. Garter. 

13. Unco blate. Very shy. 

14. Gabs. Chatter. 

15. Gar. Make. 

16. Whyles. SoTnetimes, 

17. Kail. Colewort. 

18. Maun. Must. 

19. Steek their een. Close their eyes. 

20. Grape an* wale. Grope and 
choose. 

21. Muckle anes. Big ones. 

22. Straught. Straight. 

23. Hav'rel. Foolish. 

24. Fell afif the drift. Lost the way. 



* 



* 



^ 



25. Bow-kail. Cabbage. 

26. Pou't. Pulled. 

27. Shift. Choice. 

28. Runt. Stalk. 

29. Bow't. Bent. 

30. Yird. With earth attached 
the root. 

31. A' throu'ther. All in confusion. 

32. Rin. Run. 

33. Shouther. Shoulder. 

34. Gif. If. 

35. Custock. Stalk. 

36. Joctelegs. Clasi>-kiuves. 

37. Syne. Then. 

38. Aboon. Above. 

39. Cannie. Prudent. 



i SELECTED POEMS 8T 

VII 
The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits*** 

Are round an^ round divided,* 
An^ monie lads^ an^ lasses' fates 

Are there that night decided: 
Some kindle, couthie,*^ side by side. 

An' burn thegither trimly; 
Some start awa wi' saucy pride, 

An' jump out-owre the chimlie*^ 
Fu' high that night 

VIII 

Jean slips in twa wi' tentie e'e;^^ 

Wha 'twas, she wadna tell; 
But this is Joch, an' this is me, 

She says in to hersel: 
He bleez'd** owre her, an' she owre him, 

As they wad never mair part, ^ 

Till fufi! he started up the lum,^^ 

An' Jean had e'en a sair^^ heart 
^ To see't that night. 

IX 

Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,*^ 

Was brunt^® wi' primsie^^ Mallie ; 
An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt,^® 

To be compar'd to Willie : 
Mall's nit lap^^ out, wi' pridefu' fling, 

An' her ain fit,*"'^ it brunt it; 
While Willie lap, and swoor by jing, 

'Twas just the wa)^ he wanted 
To be that night. 

40. Weel-hoordet nits. Well-hoarded 46. Sair. Sore. 

nutH. 47. Bow-kail runt. Cabbago stalk, 

41. Couthie. Comfortably. 48. Brunt. Buined. 

42. Out-owre the chimlie. Out of 49. Primsie. Prim. 

the cliinmoy. 60. Drunt. A fit of sullenness. 

43. Tentie e'e. Heedful eye. .'1. lap. Leaped. 

44. Bleez'd. Blazed. .'-2. Fit. Foot. 
4.'j. Lum. Chimney. 



88 SELECTED POEMS 

X 
JSTell had the fause-house* in her min^ 

She pits^^ hersel an^ Eob in; 
In loving bleeze they sweetly join^ 

Till white in ase^* they^re sobbin : 
NelFs heart was dancin at the view; 

She whispered Eob to leuk^^ f or't : 
Rob, stownlins, prie'd^^ her bonie mou/'^ 

Fu' cozie in the nenk^^ toT% 
Unseen that night. 

XI 

But Merran sat behint their backs. 

Her thoughts on Andrew Bell; 
She le^i'es^^ them gashin at their cracks,^^ 

An' slips out by hersel: 
She thro' the yard the nearest taks, 

An' to the kiln she goes then, 
An' darklins^^ grapit^^ for the bauks/^ 

And in the blue-clue throws tl^en,* 
Right fear't that night. 

XII 

An' ay she win't,^^ an' ay she swat®^ — 
I wat^^ she made nae jaukin;^^ 

Till something held within the pat,®* 
Guid Lord ! but she was quakin !®® 

But whether 'twas the Deil himsel, 
Or whether 'twas a bauk-en'/® 

53. Pits. Puts. 61. Darklins. In the dark. 

54. Ase. Ashes. 62. Grapit. Groped. 

55. Leuk. Look. 63. Bauks, Beams. 
66. Stownlins, prie'd. By stealth 64. Win't. Wound. 

tasted. 65. Swat. Sweated. 

57. Mou. Mouth. 66. Wat. Know. 

58. Neuk. Corner. 67. Jaukin, Trifling. 

59. Lea'es. Leaves. 68. Pat. Kiln-Dot. 

60. Gashin at their cracks. Gabbling 69. Quakin. Quaking. 

at their chat. 70. Bauk-en*. Beam-end. 



SELECTED POEMS 80 

Or whether it was Andrew Bell, 
She did na wait on talkin 

To spier"^^ that night 

XIII 

Wee Jenny to her graunie^^ says, 

^^Will ye go wi' me, grannie? 
1^11 eat the apple at the glass,* 

I gat frae uncle Johnie/' 
She fnff't^^ her pipe wi' sic a lunt,^* 

In wrath she was sae vap'rin. 
She notic^t na an aizle brunt^^ 

Her braw new worsef^^ apron 
Out thro' that night. 

XIV 

^^Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!^^ 

I daur^^ you try sic sportin. 
As seek the foul thief^^ ony place, 

For him to spae^^ your fortune : 
N'ae doubt but ye may get a sight! 

Great cause ye hae to fear it; 
For monie a ane has gotten a fright. 

An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret,«i 
On sic a night. 

XV 

^^Ae hairst®^ afore the Sherra-moor,®^ 

1 mind't as weel's yestreen,®* 
T was a gilpey®^ then, I'm sure 

I was na past fyfteen: 

71. Spier. Ask. 78. Daur. Dare. 

72. Graunie. Grandmother. 79. Foul thief. The devil. 

73. Fuff't Puffed. 80. Spae. Foretell. 

74. Sic a lunt. Such a smoke. 81. Deleeret. Delirious. 

75. Aizle brunt. Cinder burnt. 82. Ae hairst. One harvest. 

76. Worset. Worsted. 83. Sherra-moor. A bittle of the 

77. Skelpie-limmer's face. **A tech- Jacobite rebellion of 1715. 
nical term in female eooldiiuc" 84. Yestreen. Last nigb* 

(R. B.) — ^you little hussj'? .^^f). Gilpey. Young Rirl 



90 SELECTED POEMS 

The simmer had been cauld an' wat, 
An' stuff was unco^^ green ; 

An' ay a rantin kirn^^ we gat. 
An' just on Halloween 

It fell that night. 

XVI 

'^Our stibble-rig^^ was Eab M'Graen, 
A clever, stuiT^y fallow; 



He gat hemp-seed,* I mind it weel, 

An' he made unco light o't; 
But monie a day was by himsel,^^ 

He was sae sairly frighted 
That vera night." 

XVII 

Then up gat fechtin^® Jamie Fleck, 

An' he swoor by his conscience;, 
That he could saw^^ hemp-seed a peck ; 

For it was a' but nonsense : 
The auld guidman raught^^ down the pock,^^ 

An' out a handf u' gied him ; 
Syne®^ bad him slip frae 'mang the folk, 

Sometime when nae ane see'd him, 
An' try't that night. 

XVIII 

He marches thro' amang the stacks, 
Tho' he was something sturtin;^^ 

The graip^^ he for a harrow taks. 
An' haurls^"^ at his curpin;^^ 



86. Unpo. Very. 

87. Rantin kirn. Rollicking harvest- 
home. 

88. Stibble-rig. Chief harvester. 
80. By himsel. Beside himself. 
00. Fechtin. Fighting. 

T'l. Saw. Sow. 



92. Raught. Reached. 

93. Pock. Bng. 

94. Syne. Then. ♦ 

95. Sturtin. Frightened. 

96. Graip. Dung-fork. 

97. Haurls. Trails. 

98. Curpin. Back (crupper). 



SELECTED POEMS 91 

And ev'ry now an' then, he says, 

"Hemp-seed, I saw thee, 
An^ her that is to be my lass, 

Come after me, an^ draw thee 
As fast this night/^ 

XIX 

He whistrd up Lord Lenox' March, 

To keep his courage cheery; 
Altho' his hair began to arch, 

He was sae fley'd an' eerie ;^^ 
Till presently he hears a squeak. 

An' then a grane an' gruntle;^®® 
He by his shouther^^^ gae a keek,^®^ 

An' tumbl'd wi' a wintle^^^ 

Out-owre that night. 

XX 

He roar'd a horrid murder-shout. 

In dreadf u' desperation ! 
An^ young an' auld come rinnin out. 

An' hear the sad narration: 
He swoor 'twas hilchin^^^ Jean M'Craw, 

Or crouchie^^^ Merran Humphie, 
Till stop ! she trotted thro' them a' ; 

An' wha was it but Grumphie^^® 
Asteer^^^ that night? 

XXI 

Meg fain wad to the barn gaen,^®^ 

To winn^^^ three wechts^^^ o' naething;* 

But for to meet the Deil her lane/^^ 
She pat^^2 but little faith in: 

§9. Fley'd an* eerie. Scared and 105. Crouchi«i. Hunchbacked, 

awe-struck. lOG. Grumphie. The sow. 

100. Grane an' gruntle. Groan and 107. Asteer. Astir, 
grunt. 108. Gaen. Have gone. 

101. Shouther. Shoulder. 109. Winn. Winnow. 

102. Gae a keek. Gave a peep. 1 10. Wechts. Siove-fulls. 
laS. Wintle. Roll. 111. H^r lane. Alone. 
101. Hilchin. Halting. 112. Pat. Put. 



1^2 



SELECTED POEMS 



She gies the herd^^^ a pickle^^^ nits, 

An^ twa red-cheekit apples. 
To watch, while for the barn she sets/^^ 

In hopes to see Tarn Kipples 
That vera night. 

XXII 

She turns the key wi^ cannie thraw/^® 

An^ owre the threshold ventures; 
But first on Sawnie gies a ca',^^^ 

gyj^giis bauldly in she enters: 
A ratton^^^ rattl'd up the wa^, 

An^ she ery^d. Lord preserve her! 
An^ ran thro^ midden-hole^^® an a'. 

An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervor, 
Fu' fast that night. 

XXIII 

They hoy't^^^ out Will, wi' sair advice ; 

They hecht^^^ him some fine braw ane ; 
It chanc'd the stack he faddom't^^^ thrice* 

Was timmer-propt for thrawin:^^* 
He taks a swirlie,^^^ auld moss-oak 

For some black grousome carlin ;^^* 
An' loot a winze,^^"^ an' drew a stroke, 

Till skin in blypes^^^ cam haurlin^^® 
Aff's nieves^^® that night. 

XXIV 

A wanton widow Leezie was. 
As cantie^^^ as a kittlin;^^^ 



113. Herd. Herd-boy. 

114. Pickle. A few. 

115. Sets. Setsofif. 

116. Cannie thraw. Careful twist. 

117. Gies a ca'. Gives a call. 

118. Syne. Then. 

119. Ratton. Rat. 

120. Midden-hole. Dung-hill gutter. 

121. Hoy't. Urged. 

122. Hecht. Promised. 

123. Faddom't. Fathomed, meas- 
ured. 



124. Timmer-propt for thrawin. Tim- 
ber-propped to prevent its 
leaning over. 

125. Swirlie. Twisted. 

126. Carlin. Old woman. 

127. Loot a winze. Uttered a cur>»4>. 

128. Blypes. Shreds. 

129. Haurlin. Peeling. 

130. AfF's nieves. Off his fists. 

131. Cantie. Lively. 

132. Kittlin. Kitten. 



SELECTED POEMS 93 

But och ! that night, amang the shaws,^^ 

She gat a fearfu' settlin! 
She thro' the whins/^^ an' by the cairn, 

An' owre the hill gaed scrievin ;^^^ 
Whare three lairds' lands met at a bum,* 

To dip her left sark^^^ sleeve in. 
Was bent that night. 

XXV 

Whyles^^^ owre a linn^^^ the burnie^^^ plays. 

As thro' the glen it wimpl't ;^^° 
AVhyles round a rocky scaur^^^ it strays, 
AVhyles in a wieP*^ it dimpl't ; 
, Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, 
Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle; 
Whyles cookit^*^ underneath the braes^*^ 
Below the spreading hazle. 
Unseen that night. 

XXVI 

Amang the brachens^^^ on the brae. 

Between her an' the moon, 
The Deil, or else an cutler quey,^*® 

Gat up an' gae a croon i^^*^ 
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool ;^*® 

Near lav'rock-^*^ height she jumpit, 
But mist a fit/^^ an' in the pool 

Out-owre the lugs^^^ she plumpit, 
Wi' a plunge that night. 

133. Shaws. Woods. 143. Cookit. Hid. 

134. Whins. Furze. 144. Braes. Hillsides. 

135. Gaed scrievin. Went hurrying. 145. Brachens. Ferns. 

136. Sark. Shirt. 146. Outler quey. Unhoused heifer. 

137. Whyles. Sometimes. 147. Croon. Moan, low. 

138. Linn. Waterfall. 148. Lap the hooL Leaped out of its 

139. Burnie. Brooklet. covering. 

140. Wimprt. Wound. 140. Lav'rock. Lark. 

141. Scaur. Cliff. 1")(). Fit. Foot. 

142. Wiel. Whirlpool. ]'>]. Lugs. Ears. 



04 SELECTED POEMS 

XXVII 
In order^ on the clean hearth-stane, 

The luggies^^^ three are ranged,* 
And ev'ry time great care is taen 

To see them duly changed : 
Auld nncle John, wha wedlock's joys 

Sin' Mar's-year^^^ did desire. 
Because he gat the toom^^* dish thrice. 

He heav'd them on the fire, 
In wrath that night. 

XXVIII 

Wi^ merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, 

I wat they did na weary; 
And nnco^^^ tales, an' funnie Jokes — 

Their sports were cheap an' cheery: 
Till bntter'd sow'ns,* wi' fragrant Innt,^^^ 

Set a' their gabs a-steerin ;^^^ 
Syne,^^^ wi' a social glass o' strunt,^^^ 

They parted aff careerin 

Fu' blythe that night. - ♦ 

TO A MOUSE 

ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH^ 

NOVEMBER, 1785 

[Gilbert Burns testified that these verses were composed I 
''wliile the author was holding the plough." Long years after, f 
a laborer . who had worked for Burns declared that he re- 
membered the "turning up" of the mouse and had started 
after it to kill it, till reproved by Burns.] 

I 
Wee, sleekit,^ cowrin, tim'rous beastie, 
0, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 

152. Luggies. Wooden dishes. 156. Lunt. Steam. 

153. Mar's-year. The rebellion of 157. Gabs a-steerin. Tongues wag-^ 
1715. ging. 

154. Toom. Empty. 158. Syne. Then. 

155. Unco. Strange. 150. Strunt. Liquor. 

1. Sleekit. Sleek. 



SELECTED POEMS 95 

Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 

Wi^ bickering brattle I^ 
I wad be laith^ to rin an^ chase thee, 

WF murdering pattle !* 



II 
I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken Nature's social union, 
An^ justifies that ill opinion 

Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, 

An' fellow-mortal! 



Ill 

I doubt na, whyles,^ but thou may thieve ; 
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun® live ! 
A daimen-icker in a thrave^ 

'S a sma' request; 
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,® 

An' never miss't! 



IV 

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! 
It's silly wa's^ the win's are strewin! 
An' naething, now, to big^^ a new ane, 

0' foggage^^ green! 
An' bleak December's winds ensuin, 

Baith snelP^ an' keen! 



2. Bickering brattle. Hurrying occasional ear of grain in 24 
scamper. sheaves. 

3. Laith. Loath. 8. Lave. Rest, romainr^f^r. 
t. Pattle. Plow-stnff. 9. Silly wa'".. Frail walls. 
.'). Whyles. Rornetimcs. 10. Pi^. Build. 

t' i^Ta'm. Mtist. 11. Foesjape. Rank prnfifl. 

7. Daimen-icker in a thrave. .Ar\ 12. Baith snell. Both}>itt.'r 



96 SELECTED, POEMS 

V 

Thon saw the fields laid bare an' waste, 
An' weary winter comin fast, 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 

Thou thought to dwell. 
Till crash ! the cruel coulter^^ past 

Out thro' thy cell. 

VI 

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble^* 
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble ! 
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 

But^^ house or hald,^^ 
To thole^^ the winter's sleety dribble,^® 

An' cranreuch^® cauld ! 

VII 

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,^^ 
In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft agley,^^ 
An' lea^e^^ us nought but grief an' pain. 

For promis'd joy. 

VIII 

Still thou art blest^ compar'd wi' me! 
The present only toucheth thee: 
But och ! I backward cast my e'e^^ 

On prospects drear! 
An' forward, tho' I canna see, 

T guess an' fear! 

13. Coulter. Plowshare. 19. Cranreuch. Hoar-frost. 

14. Stibble. Stubble. 20. No thy lane. Not alone. 

15. But. Without. 21. Gan^ aft agley. Go often amies. 

16. Hald. Holding, possessions. 22. Lea'e. Leave. 

17. Thole. Endure. 23. E'e. Eye. 

18. Dribble. Drizzle. 



SELECTED POEMS 97 

THE JOLLY BEGGAKS— A CANTATA 

[In spite of the high estimate of this work which has pre- 
vailed among critics, Burns never included it with his pub- 
lished poems. In 1799, three years after his death, it first 
appeared in print, at Glasgow. It was written, however, 
toward the end of 1785 and was known to a number of 
Burns's friends. 

The story is that, as the poet and two companions, John 
Richmond and James Smith (see page 136), were passing 
"Poosie-Nansie's" ale-house in Mauchline one night, they 
heard sounds of revelry that tempted them to investigate. 
. Within they found a picturesque group of vagabonds whose 
appearance and actions suggested this "puissant and splendid 
production," as Matthew Arnold called it. The principal 
characters are a crippled soldier and a woman who journeys 
with him about the country, begging; a "Merry- Andrew," or 
wandering clown or juggler; a woman pickpocket who had 
been a Highland beggar's companion; a little itinerant fiddler, 
a tinker, and a ballad-maker. Each of these sings a song 
(the "Bard" two songs), and the "recitativos" explain the 
action or the scene between songs. 

Some commentators have identified Burns himself with the 
"Bard" because that character mentions or alludes to events 
in his life which closely resemble events in Burns's life, and 
because his songs express very well the views of "Burns the 
rebel." This identification should not be taken too seriously, > 
however; it is very natural for a poet to apply his own ex- 
periences or his own ideas to imagined characters. 

Two of the songs should be compared with later songs in 
which Burns used the same refrains — "Whistle owre the lave 
o't" (compare page 205) and "For a' that, an' a' that" (com- 
pare page 227).] 

Recitativo 
I 
When lyart^ leaves bestrow the yird,^ 
Or, wavering like the bauckie-bird/ 

Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; 
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,* 
And infant frosts begin to bite, 
In hoary cranreuch^ drest; 

1. Lyart. Faded. 4. Skyte. Dash. 

2. Yird. Earth. 5. Cranreach. Hoar-froet. 

3. Bauckie-bird. Bat. 



98 



SELECTED POEMS 



Ae® night at e'en a merry core 

0' randie, gangreF bodies, 
In Poosie-Nansie's* held the splore,® 
To drink their orra duddies:^ 
Wi' quaffing and laughing 

They ranted an' they sang, 
Wi' jumping an' thumping 
The vera girdle^® rang. 
II 
First, niest^^ the fire, in anld red rags, 
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags, 

And knapsack a^ in order; 
His doxy^^ lay within his arm ; 
Wi' nsquebae^^ an' blankets warm 

She blinket on her sodger; 
An' ay he gies the tozie^* drab 

The tither skelpin^^ kiss. 
While she held up her greedy gab,^® 
Just like an auriious^^ dish; 
Ilk^^ smack still did crack still, 

Just like a cadger's^^ whip ; 
Then staggering an' swaggering 
He roar'd this ditty up — 

Air 
Tune— ''Soldier's Joy." 
I 
I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, 

And show my cuts and scars wherever I come; 
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, 
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. 
Lai de dandle, etc. 



I 



6. Ae. One. 

7. Randie, gangrel. Rowdy, vag- 
grant. 

8. St)lore Carousel. 

9. Orra duddies. Extra rags. 

10. Girdle. Griddle. 

11. Niest. Next. 

12. Dozy. Sweetheart. 



13. Usquebae. Whisky. 

14. Tozie. Tipsy. 

15. Tither skelpin. Other smacking. 
IB. Gab. Mouth. 

17. Aumo"s. Alms. 

18. TIW. Each. 

19 Cadger. Peddler. 



I 



SELECTED POEMS 99 

II 

My prenticeship I past where my leader breathed his last, 

When the bloody die was cast on the heights of 

Abram :* 

And I served out my trade when the gallant game was 

played. 

And the Moro* low was laid at the sound of the drum. 

Ill 

T lastly was with Curtis* among the floating batt'ries. 
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb ; 

Yet let my country need me, with Elliot* to head me, 
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of the drum. 

IV 

And now tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg, 
And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, 

I'm as happy with my wallet^ my bottle and my callet,-'^ 
As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum. 

V 

What tho', with hoary locks, I must stand the winter 
shocks. 

Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, 
When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell, 

I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of a drum. 

Reritativo 
He ended ; and the kebars sheuk,^^ 

Aboon^^ the chorus roar; 
While frightened rattons^'^ backward leuk, 

An^ seek the benmost bore;^^ 

20. Callet. Sweetheart. 2:?. Rations. Rats. 

21. Kebars sheuk. Rafters shook. 24. Benmost bore. Inmost hole. 

22. Aboon. jViovo. 



100 SELECTED POEMS 

A faiiT fiddler frae the neuk/^ 

He skirrd^^ out, encore! 
But up arose the martial chuck,^^ 

An' laid the loud uproar. 
[After the song of "the martial chuck," the narrative pro- 
ceeds as foHows:] 

Recitativo 
Poor Merry- Andrew, in the neuk. 

Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler-hizzie/^ 
They mind't na wha the chorus teuk,^^ 

Between themselves they were sae busy : 

At length, wi' drink an^ courting dizzy. 
He stoiter'd^® up an^ made a face; 

Then turn'd an^ laid a smack on Grizzie, 
Syne^^ tun'd his pipes wi^ grave grimace. 

Air 
Tttne— "Auld Sir Symon." 
I 
Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou;^^ 
Sir Knave is a fool in a session ;^^ 
He's there but a prentice I trow, 
But I am a fool by profession. 
II 
My grannie she bought me a beuk, 

An' I held awa^^ to the school ; 
I fear I my talent misteuk. 
But what will ye hae of a fool ? 
Ill 
For drink I would venture my neck ; 

A hizzie's the half of my craft; 
But what could ye other expect 
Of ane that's avowedly daft? 

25. Neuk. Nook, corner. 30. Stoiter*d. Staggered. 

26. Skirl'd. Shrieked. 31. Syne. Then. 

27. Martial chuck. Soldier's darling. 32. Fou. Drunk (full). 

28. Tinkler-hizzie. Tinker wench. 33. Session. Court. 

29. Teuk. Took. 34. Held awa. Went away. 



SELECTED POEMS 101 

V 

Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport, 

Let naebody name wi' a jeer; 
There^s even, I'm tanld, i' the Court 

A tumbler ca'd the Premier. 

VI 

Observe ye yon reverend lad 

Mak faces to tickle the mob? 
He rails at our mountebank squad — 

It's rivalship just i' the job ! 

VII 

And now my conclusion I'll tell. 
For faith! I'm confoundedly dry: 

The chieP^ that's a fool for himsel, 
Guid Lord ! he's far dafter than I. 

Recitativo 
Then niest^^ outspak a raucle carlin,^^ 
Wha kent^^ fu' weel to cleek the sterlin,^^ 
For monie a pursie she had hooked,*^ 
An' had in monie a well been douked.'^^ 
Her love had been a Highland laddie, 
But weary fa'^^ the waeful woodie!^^ 
Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began 
To wail her braw** John Highlandman : 

Air 
Tune — "0, an ye were dead, Guidman." 

I 
A Highland lad my love was born. 
The Lalland*^ laws he held in scorn, 
But he still was f aithfu' to his clan. 
My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 

35. Chiel. Fellow. 40. Hooked. Caught, stoleo, 

36. Niest. Next. 41. Doukdd. Ducked. 

37. Raucle carlin. Rough old woman. 42. Weary fa*. Woo betide. 

38. Kent. Knew. 43. Woodie. Gallows rope. 

39. Cleek the sterlin. Snatch the 44. Braw. Fine, 
money. 45. Lalland. Lowland. 



102 SELECTED POEMS 

Chorus 
Sing hey my braw John Highlandman ! 
Sing ho my braw John Highlandman ! 
There's not a lad in a' the Ian' 
Was match for my John Highlandman. 

II 
With his philibeg^® an' tartan plaid, 
An' guid claymore^^ down by his side, 
The ladie'fe' hearts he did trepan, 
My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 
Sing hey, etc. 

Ill 
We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey,* 
An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay. 
For a Lalland face he feared none, 
My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 
Sing hey, etc. 

IV 

They banish'd him beyond the sea, 
But ere the bud was on the tree, 
Adown my cheeks the pearls ran. 
Embracing my John Highlandman. 
Sing hey, etc. 

V 

But, och! they catch'd him at the last, 
And bound him in a dungeon fast. 
My curse upon them every one — 
They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman ! 
Sing hey, etc. 

46. Philibeg. Kilt. 47. Claymore. Two-handed sword. 



SELECTED POEMS 103 

VI 

And now a widow I must mourn 
The pleasures that will ne^er return; 
No comfort but a hearty can, 
When I think on John Highlandman. 
Sing hey, etc. 

Recitativo 
I 
A pigmy scraper wi^ his fiddle, 
Wha us'd at trystes*^ an' fairs to driddle,*^ 
Her strappin limb and gawsie^® middle 

(He reached nae higher) 
Had hoPd his heartie like a riddle,^^ 
An' blawn't^^ on fire. 

II 

Wi' hand on hainch,^^ and upward e'e/* 
He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three, 
Then in an arioso^ key. 

The wee Apollo* 
Set off wi' allegretto glee 

His giga solo. 

Air 
Tune — "Whistle owre the lave o't." 
I 
Let me ryke^^ up to dight^® that tear, 
An' go wi' me an' be my dear. 
An' then your every care an' fear 
May whistle owre the lave^^ o't. 

48. Trystes. Fairs, or cattle markets. 58. Hainch. Hip (haunch). 

40. Driddle. Toddle. 54. E'e. Eye. 

50. Gawsie. Buxom. 55. Ryke, Reach. 

51. Hol'd. .likd a riddle. Perforated 56. Dight. Wipe, 
like a sieve. 57. Lave. Rest. 

52. Blawn't. Blown it. 



104 SELECTED POEMS # 

Cliorus 
I am a fiddler to my trade, 
An^ a' the tunes that e'er I played, 
The sweetest still to wife or maid 
Was Whistle owre the lave o't. 
II 
At kims^^ an' weddins we'se^^ be there, 
An' 0, sae nicely's we will fare! 
We'll bowse about till Daddie Care 
Sing Whistle owre the lave o't. 
I am, etc. 
Ill 
Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke/® 
An' sun oursels about the dyke; 
An' at our leisure, when ye like, 
We'll whistle owre the lave o't. 
I am, etc. 

IV 

But bless me wi' your heaven o' charms, 
An' while I kittle^^ hair on thairms,®^ 
Hunger, cauld, an' sic^^ harms 
May whistle owre the lave o't. 
I am, etc. 
Eecitativo 
I 
. Her charms had struck a sturdy caird,^* 
' As weel as poor gut-scraper ; 
He taks the fiddler by the beard. 

An' draws a roosty^^ rapier ; 
He swoor by a' was swearing worth. 

To speet^^ him like a pliver,®^ 
Unless he would from that time forth 
Relinquish her for ever. 

58. Kims. Harvest-homes. 63. Sic. Such. 

59. We»se. We shall. 64. Caird. Tinker. 

60. Pyke. Pick. 65. Roosty. Rusty. 

61. Kittle. Tickle. 66. Speet. S^it. 

62. Thainns. Cat-gut. 67. Pliver. Plover. 



SELECTED POEMS 105 

II 

Wi^ ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee 

TJpon his hunkers^® bended, 
An' pray'd for grace wi^ mefu' face, 

An' so the quarrel ended. 
But tho' his little heart did grieve 

When round the tinkler prest her^ 
He feign'd to snirtle^^ in his sleeve, 

When thus the caird addressed her : 

Air 
Tune^^'Glout'^ the Cauldron." 
I 
My bonie lass, I work in brass, 

A tinkler is my station; 
IVe traveFd round all Christian ground 

In this my occupation; 
I've taen the gold, an' been enrolled 

In many a noble squadron; 
But vain they searched when off I march'd 
To go an' clout the cauldron. 

I've taen the gold, etc. 

II 

Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp, 

With a' his noise an' cap'rin ; 
An' take a share with those that bear 

The budgef^^ and the apron! 
And by that stowp V^ my faith an' houpe,"" 

And by that dear Kilbaigie,^* 
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, 

May I ne'er weet my craigie.^^ 

And by that stowp, etc. 

68. Hunkers. Hams. 72. Stowp. A measure of drink. 

69. Snirtle. Snigger. 73. Houpe. Hope. 

70. Clout. Patch. 74. Kilbaigie. A kind of whisky. 

71. Budget. Tool-bag. 75. Weet my craigie. Wet my throat. 



106 SELECTED POEMS 

Becitativo 
I 
The caird prevail'd — th' unblushing fair 

In his embraces sunk ; 
Partly wi^ lave overcome sae sair/^ 

An' partly she was drunk: 
Sir Violino, with an air 

That showed a man o' spunk, 
Wish'd unison between the pair, 
An^ made the bottle clunk^^ 

To their health that night. 



['•Her lord, a wight of Hoiner's craft," interfered, however, 
and the poem continues in relation to this new character:] 

III 

He was a care-defying blade 

As ever Bacchus listed !^^ 
Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid, 

His heart, she ever miss'd it. 
He had no wish but — to be glad, 

ISTor want but — ^when he thristed;^^ 
He hated nought but — to be sad. 

An' thus the muse suggested 

His sang that night 

Air 
Tune— ''For a' that, an' a' that." 

I 

I am a Bard, of no regard 

Wi' arentle folks an' a' that; 
But Homer-like, the glowrin byke,^^ 

Frae town to town I draw that. 

76. Sae sair. So sorely. 70. Thristed. Thirsted. 

77. Clunk. Make a hollow sound. 80. Glowrin byke. Staring crowd, 

78. Listed. Enlisted. 



SELECTED POEMS 107 

Chorus 
For a' that, an' a' that. 
An' twice as muckle's^^ a' that; 
I\e lost but ane, V\q twa behin', 
I've wife eneugh for a' that. 

II 
I never drank the Muses' stank,*^ 
Castalia's* burn,^^ an' a' that; 
But there it streams an' richly reams®* — 
My Helicon* I ca' that. 

For a' that, etc, 

III 
Great love I bear to a' the fair^ 

Their humble slave an' a' that ; 
But lordly will, I hold it still 
A mortal sin to thraw®^ that 
For a' that, etc. 

IV 

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet 

Wi' mutual love an' a' that; 
But for how lang the flie may stang,^* 

Let inclination law®^ that. 
For a' that, etc. 

V 

Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft, 
They've taen me in, an' a' that ; 

But clear your decks, and here's '^The >Sex !'* 
I like the jads^® for a' that. 

81. Muckle's. Much as. 85. Thraw. Thwart. 

82. Stank. Pond. 80. Flie may stang. Fly may stiiijt. 

83. Burn. Stream. 87. Law. Regulate. 
S4. Reams. Foams. (The bard is 88. Jads. Jades. 

speaking of the beverage before 
him.) 



108 SELECTED POEMS 

Chorus 
For a' that, an' a' that, 

An' twice as muckle's a' that; 
My dearest blnid, to do them guid, 

They're welcome tilFt^^ for a' that. 

TlecitaUvo 
So sang the Bard — and Nansie's wa's®^ 
Shook with a thunder of applause^ 

Ee-echoed from each mouth ! 
They toom'd their pocks/^ they pawn'd their duds, 
They scarcely left to coor^^ their fuds,^^ 

To quench their lowin^* drouth. 
Then owre again, the jovial thrang 

The poet did request 
To lowse^^ his pack an' wale®® a sang, 
A ballad o' the best; 
He rising, rejoicing, 

Between his twa Deborahs,* 

Looks round him, an' found them 

Impatient for the chorus : — 

Air 
Tune — "JoHy Mortals, fill your Glasses." 
I 
See the smoking bowl before us ! 
Mark our jovial, ragged ring! 
Hound and round take up the chorus. 
And in raptures let us sing : 

Chorus 
A fig for those by law protected ! 

Liberty's a glorious feast ! 
Courts for cowards were erected, 

Churches built to please the priest. 

89. Till't. To it. 93. Fuds. Backs. 

90. Wa's. Walls. 94. Lowin. Flaming. 

91. Toom'd their pocks. Emptied 95. Lowse. Untie, 
their wallete, 96. Wale. Choose. 

92. Coor. Cover. 



SELECTED POEMS 109 

II 
What is title, what is treasure. 

What is reputation's care? 
If we lead a life of pleasure, 
'Tis no matter how or where ! 
A fig for, etc. 
Ill 
With the ready trick and fable, 
Eound we wander all the day ; 
And at night, in barn or stable, 
Hug our doxies^^ on the hay. 
A fig for, etc. 

IV 

Does the train-attended carriage 
Thro' the country lighter rove? 

Does the sober bed of marriage 
Witness brighter scenes of love? 
A fig for, etc 

V ' 

Life is all a variorum. 

We regard not how it goes; 
Let them cant about decorum, 

Who have character to lose. 
A fig for, etc. 

VI 

Here's to budgets, bags, and wallets ! 

Here's to all the wandering train ! 
Here's our ragged brats and callets t^ 

One and all, cry out, Amen! 
CJiorus 
A fig for those by law protected ! 

Liberty's a glorious feast! 
Courts for cowards were erected. 

Churches built to please the priest ! 

Doxies. Darlings. 98. Callets. Sweethearte. 



no SELECTED POEMS 

THE COTTEE'S SATUEDAY XIGHT* 

IXSCRIBED TO R. AIKEX. ESQ. 

• 

"Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 
Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, ^ 

The short and simple annals of the poor." 

—Gray. 

[This is one of the poems Burns mentions in a letter of 
February 17, 1786, as written between the previous November 
and that date. 

**R. Aiken, Esq.,*' to whom it is ^'inscribed." was the Ayr 
lawyer mentioned in "Holy Willie's Prayer," who defended 
Gavin Hamilton in his church trial. 

Gilbert Burns wrote thus of the genesis of this poem: 
'•Robert had frequently remarked to me that he thought there 
was something peculiarly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us 
worship God/ used by a decent sober head of a family intro- 
ducing family worship. To this sentiment of the author the 
world is indebted for *The Cottar's Saturday Xight.' The 
hint of the plan and title of the poem were taken from 
Fergusson's 'Farmers Ingle.' " Gilbert also said. ''Although 
the cotter .... is an exact copy of my father in his manners, 
his family devotion, and his exhortations, yet the other parts 
of the description do not apply to our family."] 

I 
^ly lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend^ 

No mercenary bard his homage pays ; 
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, 

ily dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 

To yon I sing, in simple Scottish lays. 
The lowly train in life's sequestered scene. 

The native feelings strong, the guileless ways. 
What Aiken in a cottage would have been; 
Ah ! the' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween I 

II 

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;^ 
The shortening winter-day is near a close: 

The miry beasts retreating f rae the pleugh ; 
The blackening train? o' craws to their repose : 
The tx^il-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, 

1. Sugh. S^ugh, a rushing sound. 



SELECTED POEMS 111 

This night his weekly moil is at an end, 

Collects his spades^ his mattocks, and his hoes, 
Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, 
And weary, o^er the moor, his course does hameward bend. 

Ill 

At length his lonely cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
Th^ expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher^ through 

To meet their dad, wi^ flichterin^ noise and glee. 

His wee-bit ingle,* blinkin bonilie, 
His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, 

The lisping infant, prattling on his knee. 
Does a^ his weary kiaugh^ and care beguile, 
And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. 

IV 

Belyve^ the elder bairns come drapping in, 
At service out, amang the farmers roun^ ; . ^ 

Same ca^"^ the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin^ 
A cannie® errand to a neebor town : 
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, 

In youthfu^ bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,^° 
Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw^^ new gown, 

Or deposite her sair-won^^ penny-fee. 

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

v 
With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, 

And each for other's weelfare kindly spiers :^^ 
The social hours, swift-wingM, unnotic'd fleet; 

Each tells the uncos^* that he sees or hears; 

The parents partial eye their hopeful years ; 

2. Stacher. Stagger. 9. Cannie. Quiet. 

3. Flichterin. Fluttering. 10. E'e. Eye. 

4. Ingle. Fireplace. 11. Braw. Fine. 

5. Kiaugh. Anxiety. 12. Sair-won. Ilard-earned. 

6. Belyve. Soon. 13. Soiers. Asks. 

7. Ca*. Drive. 14. Uncos. News (literally, strnng*' 

8. Tentie rin. Heedful run. things). 



112 SELECTED POEMS 

Anticipation forward points the view. 

The mother, wi' her needle and her sheers^ 
Gars auld claes^^ look amaist as weeFs the new ; 
The father mixes a^ wi^ admonition due. 

VI 

Their master's and their mistresses command^ 

The younkers^® a' are warned to obey; 
And mind their labors wi' an eydent^^ hand^ 

And ne'er, tho' out o^ sight, to jauk^^ or play : 

^^And 0! be sure to fear the Lord alway! 
And mind your duty, duly, mom and night ! 

Lest in temptation^s path ye gang^® astray, 
Implore His counsel and assisting might: 
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright. '^ 

VII 

But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; 

Jenny, wha kens^^ the meaning o' the same, 
Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor, 

To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 

The wily mother sees the conscious flame 
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 

With heart-struck, anxious care enquires his name, 
While Jenny haffhns^^ is afraid to speak ; 
Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless 
rake. 

VIII 

Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;^^ 
A strappan youth, he takes the mother's eye ; 

Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill taen;^^ 

The father cracks^^ of horses, pleughs, and kye.^'^ 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 

15. Gars axild daes. Makes old 20. Wha kens. Who knows, 
clothes. 21. Hafflins. Partly (half). 

16. Younkers. Youngstera. 22. Ben. Into the parlor. 

17. Eydent. Diligent. 23. No ill taen. Not ill taken. 

18. Jauk. Trifle. 24. Cracks. Talks. 

19. Gang. Go. 25. Kye. Cows. 



SELECTED POEMS 113 

But blate an^ laithfu^,^^ scarce can weel behave; 

The mother, wi^ a woman's wiles, can spy 
What makes the youth sae bashf u' and sae grave ; 
Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.?*^ 

IX 

happy love ! where love like this is found ! 

heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
Fve paced much this weary, mortal round. 

And sage experience bids me this declare — 

"If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 
One cordial in this melancholy vale, 

'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair. 
In other's arms, breathe out their tender tale. 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 
gale.- 

X 

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — 

A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! 
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 

Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth ! 
Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? 

Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 
Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? 
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild 1 

XI 

But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
The healsome parritch,^^ chief o' Scotia's food; 

The soupe^^ their only hawkie^^ does afford, 
That 'yont the hallan^^ snugly chows her cood : 
The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, 

26. Blate an»laithfu\ Shy and bash- 29. Soupe. Milk, 
ful. 30. Hawkie. Cow. 

27. Lave. The rest. 31. 'Yont the hallan. H(\ or d the 
2S. Healsome parritch. Wholcsomo partition. 

porridge. 



114 SELECTED POEMS 

To grace the lad^ her weel-hain^d kebbuck, fell f^ 

And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it guid ; 
The frugal wifie^ garrulous, will tell 
How 'twas a towmond^^ auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.^^ 

XII 

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face. 

They, round the ingle,^^ form a circle wide; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 

The big ha'-Bible,^^ ance his father's pride : 

His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 
His lyart haffets^^ wearing thin and bare ; 

Thofee strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
He wales^^ a portion with judicious care ; 
And ^^Let us worship God !" he says with solemn air. 

XIII 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
Perhaps Dundee's^ wild warbling measures rise, 

Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name ; 

Or noble Elgin beets^^ the heavenward flame, 
The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 

Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame ; 
The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

XIV 

The priest-like father reads the sacred page. 
How Abram was the friend of God on high; 

Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal Bard* did groaning lie 

32. Weel-hain»d kebbuck, fell. Well- 36. Ha'-Bible. Hall Bible, family 
saved, strong cheese. Bible. 

33. Towinond. Twelve-month. 37. Lyart haffets. Gray locks (on 

34. Sin* lint was i' the bell. Since his temples), 
flax was in flower. 38. Wales. Chooses. 

35. Ingle. Fireplace. 39. Beets. Fans. 






SELECTED POEMS 115 

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; 

Or Job's pathetic plaint^ and wailing cry ; 
'Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 

XV 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme. 
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 

How He who bore in Heaven the second name, 
Had not on earth whereon to lay His head : 
How BQs first followers and servants sped ; 

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
How he, who lone in Patmos banished,* 

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand. 

And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's 
command. 

XVI 

Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays: 
Hope ^^springs exulting on triumphant wing,"* 

That thus they all shall meet in future days, 

There ever bask in uncreated rays: 
No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear. 

Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
In such society, yet still more dear; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

XVII 

Compar'd with this, how poor Eeligion's pride, 

In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
When men display to congregations wide 

Devotion's ev^ry grace, except the heart! 

The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 
The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ;*® 

But haply, in some cottage far apart. 
May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul. 
And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 

40. Sacerdotal stole. Priestly robe. 



1 1 6 SELECTED POEMS 

XVIII 
Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest; 
The parent-pair their secret homage pay, 

And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, 

That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, 
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride. 

Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 
For them and for their little ones provide ; 
But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 

XIX 

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : 

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
"An honest man's the noblest work of God;"* 
And certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road. 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind; 
What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, 

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind. 

Studied in arts of Hell, in wickedness refin'd ! 

XX 

Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! 

And ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
From Luxury's contagion, w^eak and vile! 

Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
A virtuous populace may rise the while. 
And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle. 

XXI 

Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thro' Wallace's* undaunted heart. 

Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride. 
Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
(The patriot's God peculiarly thou art. 



SELECTED POEMS 117 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) 

never, never Scotia^s realm desert. 
But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard 
In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! 



THE AULD FAEMEE^S NEW-YEAE MOENING 
SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MAEE, MAGGIE 

ox GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED EIPPl OF CORN TO HANSEL2 IX 
THE NEW-YEAE 

[Presumably written about the New- Year of 1786.] 



I 
A Guid New- Year I wish thee, Maggie ! 
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie :^ 
Tho' thou's howe-backit* now, an' knaggie,® 

I've seen the day 
Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie,® 

Out-owre the lay.^ 



II 
Tho' now thou's dowie.^ stiff, an' crazy, 
An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie, 
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, an' glaizie,^ 

A bonie gray: 
He should been tight^® that daur't to raize^^ thee, 

Ance in a day. 



1. Ripp. Handful. 7. Out-owre the lay. Across the 

2. Hansel. Welcome with a gift. meadow. 

3. Baggie. Belly. 8. Dowie. Drooping. 

4. Howe-backit. Sway-backed. 9. Glaizie. Glossy. 

5. Knaggie. Bony. 10. Tight. Girt, prepared. 

0. Staggie. Colt. 11. Daur't to raize. Dared to excite. 



118 SELECTED POEMS 

III 

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, 
A filly buirdlY;, steeve, an' swank ;^^ 
An' set weel down a shapely shank 

As e'er tread yird/^ 
An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,^* 

Like ony bird. 

IV 

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year, 
Sin' thou was my guid-f ather's meere ;^^ 
He gied me thee^, o' tocher^^ clear^ 

An' fifty mark ;^^ 
Tho^ it was sma'^ 'twas weel-won gear,^® 

An' thou was stark.^® 

V 

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, 
Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie f^ 
Tho' ye was trickie, slee,^^ an' funnie, 

Ye ne'er was donsie f^ 
But hamely, tawie,^^ quiet, an' cannie,^* 

An' unco sonsie.^^ 

VI 

That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle^^ pride, 
When ye bure^"^ hame my bonie bride; 
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, 

Wi' maiden air! 
Kyle-Stewart* I could bragged wide 

For sic^^ a pair. 

12. Buirdly, steeve, an* swank. 19. Stark. Strong. 
Stately, compact, and limber. 20. Minnie. Mother. 

13. Yird. Earth. 21. Slee. Sly. 

14. Stank. Ditch or pool. 22. Donsie. Hard to manage 

15. Guid-father's meere.' Father-in- 23. Tawie. Tractable, 
law's mare. 24. Cannie. Gentle. 

16. o' tocher. As dowry. 25. Unco sonsie. Very good-natured. 

17. Mark. An old Scotch coin 26. Muckle. Much, 
worth about 27 cents in American 27. Bure. Bore. 
money. 28. Sic. Such. 

1.8. Gear. V/ealth. 



^ 



SELECTED POEMS 119 

VII 
Tho' now ye dow but hoyte^^ and hoble, 
An^ wintle^^ like a saumont-coble,^^ 
That day ye was a j inker ^^ noble, 

For heels an^ win' ! i 

An' ran them till they a' did wanble, 

Far, far behin'. 

VIII 

When thou an' I were young an' skiegh,^^ 

An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh/* 

How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegh,^^ 

An' tak the road! 
Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abeigh,^^ 

An' ca't thee mad. 

IX 

When thou was corn't,^^ an' I was mellow, 
We took the road ay like a swallow: 
At brooses^^ thou had ne'er a fellow. 

For pith an' speed ; 
But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,^® 

Whare'er thou gaed. 

X 

The sma', droop-rumpl't,^® hunter cattle 
Might aiblins waur't^^ thee for a brattle ;*^ 
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle, 

An' gar't them whaizle :*^ 
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle** 

0' saugh*^ or hazle. 

29. Dow but hoyte. Can but amble 3S Proos*»s. Wpddinjr races, 
crazily. 39. Ev'ry tail, etc. Outran everj- 

30. Wintle. Stacger othor horse. 

31. Saumont-coble. Salmon-boat. 40. Drooo-rumDl't. Sbort-rumped. 

32. linker. Goer. 41. Aiblins waur't. Perhaps have 

33. Skiegh. Skittish. ben ton. 

34. Driegh. Dull. 42. Brattle. Spurt. 

35. Snore an* skriegh. Snort and 43. Gar't them whaizle. Made them 
noigh. vvboozo. 

36. Abie«?h. Aloof. 44. Wattle. Wnnd. 

37. Corn't Fed with corn (=oat8). 45. Saugh. Willow. 



120 



SELECTED POEMS 



XI 



Thou was a noble fittie-lan'/® 
As e'er in tug or tow*^ was drawn ! 
Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun,*' 

On guid IMareh-woather, 
Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han\ 

For days thegither. 

Xll 

Thou never braing't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit;** 
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, 
An' spread abreed thy weel-fiU'd brisket,*® 

Wi' pith an- powV; 
Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' riskit,°* 

An' slypct owre.**^ 

XIII 

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, 
An' threaten'^ labor back to keep, 
I gied thy cog*^ a wee-bit heap 

Aboon the timmer;'^* 
I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep 

For tliat, or simmer. '^^ 

XIV 

Tn eart or ear thou never reestit:*® 
The steyest brae*' thou wad hae fae't it; 
Thou never lap, an' sten't, and breastit,*^' 

Then stood to blaw; 
But just thv stop a wee thing hastit, 

'J'hou snoov't awa.*^ 



: 



40. Fittie-lan'. Tbo near horse of 
the hiiuiniost pair in plowing. 

47. Tug or tow. Hido or rope traces. 

48. Aught hours' gaun. Eight hours* 
going. 

40. Braing't. fetch't, fliskit. Plunged. 
pulltHi irregularly, capered. 

50. Brisket. Chest* 

51. Sprittie knowes wad rair't an' 
riskit. HiuUy hillocks wouhi 
have roartni and cracked. 



52. Slypet owre. Fallen smoothl; 
over. 

53. Gied thy cog. Gave tliy dish 

54. Tinuner. Timber. 

55. Or simmer. Kre summer. 
5«. Reestit. R \lked. 

57. Steyest brae. Stee]>est hill. 

58. Lap, steiv't, breastit. Leaped, 
sprang, jumped forward. 

59. Snoov't awa. Jogged along. 



SELECTED POEMS 121 

XV 

My pleugh®^ is now thy bairn-time aV^ 
Four gallant brutes as e^er did draw; 
Porbye sax mae^'^ I\e selFt awa, 

That thou hast nurst; 
They drew me thretteen pund an' twa, 

The vera warst. 

XVI 

Monie a sair daurk^? we twa hae wrought, 
An' wi' the weary warF fought! 
An' monie an anxious day I thought 

We wad be boat ! 
Yet here to crazy age we're brought, 

Wi' something yet. 

XVII 

An' think na', my auld, trusty servan', 
That now perhaps tliou's less deservin. 
An' thy auld days may end in starvin ; 

For my last fow/'* 
A heapit stimpart/^ I'll reserve ane 

Laid by for you. 

XVIII 

WeVe worn to crazy years thegither ; 
We'll toyte®® about wi' ane anither; 
Wi' tentie«^ care I'll flit«« thy tether 

To some hain'd rig,®® 
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,^^ 

Wi' sma' fatigue. 

60. Pleugh. Plow-team. 65. Stimpart. An eighth part. 

61. Thy bairn- time a*. All thy brood, 00. Toyte. Totter. 
isHuc 07. Tentie. Attentive. 

62. Forbye sax mae. Besides six 08. Flit. Shift. 

more. 09. Hain'd rig. Reserved ridge. 

63. Sai'- daurk. Hard day's work. 70. Rax your leather. Stretch your 
04. FoW. HuHhel. hide. 



122 SELECTED POEMS 

THE TWA DOGS 

A TALE 

[One of the poems composed between November, 1785, and 
February, 1786; placed first in the Kilmarnock edition, and 
in subsequent editions in which re-arrangement has not been 
made. 

Written in memory of a favorite dog, called Luath after 
Cuchullin's dog in Ossian's Fmgal (the Macpherson version), 
which was killed the night before William Burnes's death in 
1784.] 

'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle, 

That bears the name of auld King Coil,* 

Upon a bonie day in June, 

When wearing thro' the afternoon, 
^ Twa dogs, that were na thrang^ at hame, 

Forgather'd ance upon a time. 

The first I'll name, they ca'd hin; Caesar, 

Was keepit for his Honor's pleasure; 

His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,^ 
^^ Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs. 

But whalpit^ some place far abroad, 

Whare sailors gang to fish for cod. 
His locked, letter'd, braw^ brass collar 

Shew'd him the gentleman and scholar; 
^^ But tho' he was o' high degree. 

The fient^ a pride, nae pride had he; 

But wad hae spent an hour caressin, 

Ev'n wi' a tinkler^-gipsy^s messin:*^ 

At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,® 

Nae tawted tyke,^ tho' e'er sae duddie,^® 

But he wad stan't, as glad to see him. 

An' snufi'd at stanes an' hillocks wi' Kim. 



1. Thrang. Busy. 6. Tinkler. Tinker. 

2. Lugs. Ears. 7. Messin. Mongrel. 

3. Whalpit Whelped, born. 8. Smiddie. Smithy. 

4. Braw. Fine. 9. Tawted tyke. Matted cur. 

5. Fient. Fiend, devil. 10. Duddie. Ragged. 



20 



30 



SELECTED POEMS 123 

The tither^^ was a ploughman's collie, 

A rh}rming, ranting, raving billie/^ 
2^ Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, 

And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, 

After some dog in Highland sang. 

Was made lang syne^^ — Lord knows how lang. 
He was a gash^* an' faithfn' tyke, 

As ever lap a sheugh^^ or dyke. 

His honest, sonsie, baws'nt^^ face 

Ay gat him friends in ilka^^ place. , 

His breast was white, his touzie^® back 

Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black; 

His gawsie^^ tail, wi' upward curl. 

Hung owre his hurdies^® wi' a swirl. 
Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither,^ 

And unco pack^^ an' thick thegither; 

Wi' social nose whyles^^ snuff'd an' snowkit :^* 
40 Whyles mice an' moudieworts^^ they howkit:^^ 

Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, 

An' worry'd ither in diversion; 

Until, wi' daffin^^ weary grown. 

Upon a knowe^® they sat them down. 

An' there began a lang digression 

About the lords o' the creation. 



35 



45 



CAESAR 

I've aften wonder'd, honest Luath, 
AVhat sort o' life poor dogs like you have ; 
An' when the gentry's life I saw, 
^^ ^Vhat way poor bodies liv'd ava.^^ 

11. Tither. Other. 21. Were fain o» ith«r. Liked eaok 

12. BiUie. Fellow. other. 

13. Lang S3me. Long ago. 22. Unco pack. Yen' intimato. 

14. Gash. Wise. 23. Whyles. Sometimes. 

15. Lap a sheugh. leaped a ditch. 24. Snowkit Sniffed. 

16. Sonsie, baws'nt. Pleasant, white- 25. Moudieworts. Moles, 
streaked. 20. Howkit Dust. 

17. Dka. Kveo-. 27. Daffin. Merrimrnt 

18. Touzie. Sbacpy. 28. Knowe. Knoll. 

19. Gawsie. Big and jolly. 20. Ava. At all. 

20. Hurdies. CrupiA^r. 



124 SELECTED POEMS 

Our laird gets in his racked^^ rents, 
His coals, his kain, an^ a^ his stents ;^^ 
He rises when he likes himsel; 
His flunkies answer at the bell; 

^^ He ea^s his coach; he ca's his horse; 
He draws a bonie silken purse. 
As lang's my tail, whare, thro^ the steeks/^ 
The yellow-letter'd Geordie keeks.^^ 

Frae mom to e^en it^s nought but toiling 

*^ At baking, roasting, frying, boiling; 
An^ tho^ the gentry first are stechin,^* 
Yet ev'n the ha' folk^^ fill their pechan^^ 
Wi' sauce, ragouts, an' sic like trashtrie,^^ 
That's little short o' downright wastrie.^® 

^^ Our whipper-in, wee, blastit wonner/® 
Poor, worthless elf, it eats a dinner, 
Better than ony tenant man 
His Honor has in a' the Ian' ; 
An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in,*^ 

"^^ I own it's past my comprehension. 

LUATH 

Trowth, Caesar, whyles they're fash't*^ eneugh,^ 
A cotter howkin*^ in a sheugh,*^ 
Wi' dirty stanes biggin^^ a dyke. 
Baring*^ a quarry, an sic like, 
"^ Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 
A smytrie*® o' wee duddie weans,*^ 
An' nought but his han' darg,*^ to keep 
Them right an' tight in thack an' rape>® 

30. Rackdd. Extortionate. hounds whipped into the course. 

31. Kain, stents. Rent in kina, dues. 40. Pit their painch in. Put in their 

32. Steaks. Stitches. paunch. 

33. Yellow-letter'd Geordie keeks. 41. Fash't. Troubled. 
Guinea peeps (a coin with a 42. Howkin. Digging, 
likeness of King George) . 43. Sheugh. Ditch. 

.34. Stechin. Cramming. 44. Biggin. Building. 

35. Ha* folk. Hall folk, servants. 45. Baring. Clearing. 

36. Pechan. Stomach. 46. Smytrie. Brood. 

37. Trashtrie. Trash, rubbish. 47. Duddie weans. Ragged children. 

38. Wastrie. Waste. 48. Han' darg. Hand work. 

39. Whipper-in, etc. A little, shriv- 49. Thack an* rape. Thatch and 
eled huntsman who kept the rope. 



oELECTED POEMS 125 

An' when they meet wi' sair^^ disasters, 
^^ Like loss o' health or want o' masters, 
Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer, 
An^ they mann^^ starve o^ cauld and hunger: 
But, how it comes I never kend^^ yet, 
They^re maistly wonderfu' contented; 
^^ An^ buirdly chiels,^^ an' clever hizzies,** 
Are bred in sic a way as this is. 

CAESAR 

But then to see how ye're negleckit. 
How huffd, an' cuff'd, an' disrespeckit I 
Lord, man, our gentry care as little 
^^ For del vers, ditchers, an' sic cattle; 
They gang as saucy by poor folk. 
As I wad by a stinking brock.^° 

I've notic'd, on our laird's court-day, 
An' mony a time my heart's been wae,^' 
^^ Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,* 

How they maun thole^""^ a f actor^s snash ;'® 
He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, 
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear;^^ 
While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, 
1^^ An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! 

I see how folk live that hae riches ; 
But surely poor folk maun be wretches! 

LUATH 

They're nae sae wretched 's ane wad think ; 
'I'ho' constantly on poortith's^® brink, 
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight, 
The view o't gies them little fright. ^ 



105 



50. Sair. Sore. 56. Wacf. Sad. 

51. Maun. Must. 57. Maun thole. Must endure. 

52. Kend. Knew. 58, Snash. Abuse. 

53. Buirdly chiels. Stout lads. 59, Poind their gear. Seize their 

54. Hizzies. Girls. property. 

5.'.. Brock. Badger. CO. Poortith. Poverty. 



126 SELECTED POEMS 

Then chance an' fortune are sae guicW^ 

They're ay in less or mair provided ; 

An' the' fatigu'd \\'i 'close employment, 
^^^ A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. 
The dearest comfort o' their lives, 

Their grusliie weans^^ an' faithfu' wives; 

The prattling things are just their pride, 

That sweetens a' their fire-side. 
'^'^^ x\n' whyles twalpennie worth q' nappy^^ 

Can mak the bodies unco^^ liappy; 

They lay aside their private cares, 

To mind the Kirk and State affairs; 

They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, 
120 ^Yj' kindling fury i' their breasts, 

Or tell w^hat new taxation's comin, 

An' ferlie^* at the folk in Lon'on. 
As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns. 

They get' the jovial, ranting kirns,^^ 
^^^ When rural life, of ev'ry station, 

Unite in cammon recreation; 

Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth 

Forgets there's Care upo' the eartli. 
That merry day the year begins, 
130 They bar the door on frosty win's; 

The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream,®* 

An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; 

The luntin®^ pip^* ^^'^^ sneeshin mill,*^ 

Are handed round wi^ right guid will; 
^"^ The cantie^'^ auld folks crackin crouse,^® 

The young anes ranting thro' the house — 

My heart has been sae fain to see them. 

That I for joy hae barkit wi' them. 

(U. Gmshie weans. Growing chil- 66. Ream. Foam. 

dron. 67. Luntin. Siroking. 

62. Nappy. Ale. 6S. Sneeshin mill. Snuff-box. 

Tvi. Unco. Wonderfully. 69. Cantie. Lively. 

64 Ferlie. Wonder. 70. Crackin crouse. Talking merrily ^ 

6o. Kirns. H:^rvest-homo-5 



SELECTED POEMS 127 

Still it^s owre true that ye hae said, 
140 gi^ game is now owre aften''^ play'd. 
There's monie a creditable stock 
0' decent^ honest, fawsont'''^ folk, 
Are riven out baith root an' branch. 
Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, 
1^^ Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster 
In favor wi^ some gentle master, 
Wha, aiblins thrang"^^ a-parliamentin, 
For Britain's guid his saul indenting* — 

CAESAE 

Haith,^^ lad, ye little ken about it; 

^^^ For Britain's guid! guid faith! I doubt it 
Say, rather, gaun*^^ as Premiers lead him. 
An' saying aye or no's they bid him ; 
x\t operas an' plays parading, 
Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading; 

155 Or maybe, in a frolic daft. 

To Hague or Calais taks a waft, 
To mak a tour an' tak a whirl. 
To learn 6 on ton an' see the worl'. 
There, at Vienna or Versailles, 

160 jjg rives^^ his father's auld entails; 
Or by Madrid he taks the rout, 
To thrum guitars an' fecht wi' nowt;*^® 

^^^ Then bouses drumly"^^ German water. 
To mak himsel look fair an' fatter. 

^ ^ #{« s(c sic ^ ^ 



170 



For Britain's guid ! for her destruction! 
Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction. 



71. Owre a'ten. Too often. 76. Gaun. Coin^. 

72. Fawsont. Soonib-. 77. Rives. Bnaka. 

.73. AiMins thraiT". TVr^nns busy. 7S. Ferbt wi'nonrt. Fight with bulls. 

74. InHentin. InHontuHnrr. 70. Drumly. Muddy. 

75. Haith. Faith (a potty oath). 



128 SELECTED POEMS 

LUATH 

Hech, man ! dear sirs I is that the gate*^ 
They waste sae mony a braw estate! 
Are we sae foughten^^ an^ harassed 
For gear^^ to gang that gate at last? 

^'^^ would they stay aback frae courts^ 
An' please themsels wi' countra sports. 
It wad for ev'ry ane be better, 
The laird, the tenant, an' the cotter! 
For thae^^ frank, rantin, ramblin billies,®* 
Fient haet^^ o' them's ill-hearted fellows; 
Except for breakin®^ o' their timmer,®^ 
Or speakin lightly o' their limmer,^^ 
Or shootin of a hare or moor-cock. 
The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk. 

1^^ But will ye tell me, master Caesar, 

Sure great folk's lifers a life o' pleasure? 
Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer^^ them. 
The vera thought o't jieed na fear them. 

CAESAR 

Lord, man, were ye but whyles whare I am, 
1^^ The gentles, ye wad ne'er envy 'em. 

It's true, they need na starve or sweat, 
Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat; 
They've nae sair^® wark to craze their banes. 
An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes;^^ 
^^^ But human bodies are sic fools. 
For a' their colleges an' schools. 



80. Cate. Way, 87. Timmer. Timber. 

81. FougHten. Troubled. 88. Limmer. Sweetheart. 

82. Gear. Money. 89. Steer. Stir, molest. 

83. Thae. Those. 90. Sair. Hard. 

84. Billies. Fellows. 91. Grips an* granes. Gripes and 

85. Fient haet. Not one. groans. 

86. Breakin. Wasting. 



SELECTED POEMS 129 

That when nae real ills perplex them,- 

They mak enow themsels to vex them; 

An' ay the less they hae to sturt^^ them, 
2^^ In like proportion less will hurt them. 
A country fellow at the pleugh, 

His acre's tilFd, he's right eneugh ; 

A country girl, at her wheel, 

Her dizzen's dune/^ she's unco weel; 
2^5 But gentlemen, an' ladies warst, 

Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst. 

They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy; 

Tho' deil haet^^ ails th^m, yet uneasy ; 

Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless; 
210 Their nights unquiet, lang, an' restless. 

An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races. 

Their galloping thro' public places. 

There's sic parade, sic pomp an' art. 

The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 
-^^ The men cast out^^ in party matches, 

Then sowther^^ a' in deep debauches. 

The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters, 

--^ As great an' gracious a' as sisters; 

But hear their absent thoughts o' ither, 
They're a' run deils an' jads^"^ thegither. 
Whyles, owre the wee-bit cup an' platie, 
They sip the scandal potion pretty; 

"^^ Or lee-lang^^ nights, wi' crabbit leuks^® 
Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks;^^" 
Stak6 on a chance a farmer's stackyard, 
An' cheat like ony unhanged blackguard. 

02. Sturt. Wony. 97. Run deils an' jads. Downright 

93. Dizzen's dune. Her dozen hanks devils and jades. 

of thread are spun. "*> 98. Lee-lang. Live-long. 

94. Deil haet. Nothing (devil a bit). 99. Crabbit leuks. Crabbed looks. 

95. Cast out. Quarrel. 100. Devil's pictur'd beuks. Play- 

96. Sowther. Solder, patch up. ing-cards. 



130 SELECTED POEMS 

There's some exceptions^ man an' woman; 
^^^ But this is gentr/s life in common. 

By this, the sun was out of sight. 
An' darker gloamin^^^ brought the night; 
The bum-clock^^2 humm'd wi' lazy drone; 
The kye^°3 stood rowtin^^^ i' the loan;^«^ 
235 When up they gat an' shook their lugs/^* 
Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs; 
An' each took aff his several way, 
Eesolv'd to meet some ither day. 



ADDEESS TO THE DEIL 

"O Prince! O chief of many throned pow'r^, 
That led th' embattl'd seraphim to war — " — Milton. 

[One of the poems completed between November, 1785, and 
February, 1786. 

This poem "is, in part, a good-natured burlesque of the Mil- 
tonic ideal of Satan," and "a satiric thrust at the old 
Satanic dogma."] 

I 
Thou ! whatever title suit thee, 
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,^ 
Wha in yon cavern grim an^ sootie, 

Clos'd under hatches, 
Spairges^ about the brunstane cootie,^ 

To scaud^ poor wretches! 



101. Gloamin. Twilight. 1. Clootie. Hoofed one. 

102. Bum-clock. Humming beetle. 2. Spairpes. Splashes. 

103. Kye. Cows. 3. Prnnstane cootie. Brimstone 

104. Rowtin. Lowing, dish, 

105. Toan. Lane. 4. Scaud. Scald. 

106. Lugs. Ears. 



I 



SELECTED POEMS 13] 

II 

H^ar me, auld Hangie^ for a wee. 
An' let poor damned bodies be; 
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie^ 

Ev'n to a deil^ 
To ekelp^ an' scand poor dogs like me, 

An' hear ns squeel ! 

Ill 
Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame ; 
Far kend an' noted is thy name; 
An' tho' yon lowin heuch's^ thy hame. 

Thou travels far; 
An' faith ! thou's neither lag^ nor lame, 

Nor blate nor scaur.^ 

IV 

Whyles,^ ranging like a roarin lion, 
For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin; 
^Vhyles, on the strong- wing'd tempest fly in, 

Tirlin the kirks ;^^ 
WHiyles, in the human bosom pryin, 

Unseen thou lurks, 

V 

I've heard my rev'rend grannie say. 
In lanely glens ye like to stray; 
Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray, 

Nod to the moon. 
Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, 

Wi' eldritch^^ croon. 



5. Skelp. Slap. 9. Whyles. Sometim♦^^ 

V). Lowin heucn. Flaming pit. 10. Tirlin the kirks, llnromnn^' the 

7. Lag. Backward. ohurchos. 

8. Blate, scaur. Shy, afraid. 11. Eldritch. Unearthl\ 



132 SELECTED POEMS 

VI 

When twilight did my graunie summon, 
To say her prayers, douce/^ honest woman ! 
Aft yont^^ the dyke she^s heard yon bnmmin/* 

Wi^ eerie^^ drone ; 
Or, rustlin, thro^ the boortrees^^ eomin, 

Wi^ heavy groan. 

VII 

Ae^^ drear}% windy, winter night. 

The stars shot down wi^ sklentin^^ light, 

Wi' yon, mysel, I gat a fright, 

Ayont the lough ;^® 
Ye, like a rash-buss,^^ stood in sight, 

Wi^ wavin sugh.^^ 

VIII 

The cudgel in my nieve^^ did shake. 

Each bristrd hair stood like a stake, 

'VATien, wi' an eldritch, stoor^^ ^^quaick, quaick," 

Amang the springs, 
Awa ye squatter^d-^ like a drake. 

On whistling wings. 

IX 

Let warlocks^^ gi'ini, an' withered hags. 
Tell how wd' you, on ragweed nags. 
They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags, 

Wi' wicked speed; 
And in kirk-vards renew their leagues, 

Owre howkit^^ dead. 

12. Douce. Grave. 20. Rash-buss. Rusli-bush. 

13. Yont. Beyond. 21. Sugh. The rushing noise of 

14. Bummin. Humming. wind or wa,ter. 

15. Eerie. Uncanny. 22. Nieve. Fist. 

16. Boortrees. Elders. 23. Eldritch, stoor. Unearthlj-, harsh. 

17. Ae. One. 24. Squatter'd. Flapped. 

18. Sklentin. Slanting. 25. Warlocks. Wiz*ds. 

19. Ayont the lough. Beyond the 2G. Howkit. Dug up. 
lake. 



1 



SELECTED POEMS * 133 

X 

Thence^ countra wives, wi^ toil and pain. 
May plunge an' plunge the kirn^^ in vain; 
For ! the yellow treasurers taen 

By witching skill; 
An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkie's^^ gane 

As yelPs the bill.^^ 

XII 

When thowes^^ dissolve the snawy hoord,^^ 
An' float the jinglin icy boord,^^ 
Then water-kelpies^^ haunt the foord, 

By j^our direction, 
An' nighted travellers are allured 

To their destruction. 

XIII 

An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies^* 
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is: 
The bleezin/^ curst, mischievous monkies 

Delude his eyes, 
Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 

Ne'er mair to rise, 

XIV 

When Masons' mystic word an' grip 
In storms an' tempests raise you up. 
Some cock or cat your rage maun^® stop, 

Or, strange to tell ! 
The youngest brother ye wad whip 

Aff straught^^ to hell. . 

27. Kim. Churn. 32. Boord. Surface. 

28. Dawtit, twal-pint hawkie. Petted, 33. Kelpies. Water-spirite. 
twelvo-pint cow. 34. Spunkies. Will-o-the- wispy. 

29. As yell's the bill. As dry as the 35. Bleezin. RlnziiiK. 
bull. 30. Maun. Must. 

30. Thowes. Thaws. 37. Aff straught Off Rtrai^rht. 
31 Snawv hoord. Snowy hoard. 



134 SELECTED POEMS 

XV 

Lang syne,^® ill Eden's bonie yard, 
When yonthfu' lovers first were pair' d. 
An' all the soul of love they shar'd, 

The raptur'd hour. 
Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird, 

In shady bower: 

XVI 

Then yon, ye auld, snick^^-drawing dog! 
Ye came to Paradise incog. 
An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,*^ 
(Black be your fa'!*i) 
An' gied the infant warld a shog,^^ 

'Maist ruin'd a'. 

XVII 

D'ye mind that day when, in a bizz,*^ 
Wi' reekit^* duds, an' reestit gizz,^^ 
Ye did present your smoutie phiz^^ 

'Mang better folk, 
An' sklented*^ on the man of Uzz*® 

Your spitefu' joke? 

XVIII 

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, 
An' -brak him out o' house an' hal',^® 
While scabs an' botches^® did him gall, 

Wi' bitter claw ; 
An' lows'd^^ his ill-tongu'd wicked scawl,^^ 

Was warst ava?^^ 

38. Lang syne. Long ago. 46. Smoutie phiz. Smutty face. 

39. Snick. Latch. 47. Sklented. Directed. 

40. Brogue. Trick. 48. Man of Uzz. Job. 

41. Fa*. Fall, fate. 49. Hal'. Holding, possessions. 

42. Shog. Shake. 50. Botches. Pustules. 

43. Bizz. Flurry. 51. Lows'd. Loosed. 

44. Reekit. Smoked. 52. ScawL Scold (his wife) . 

45. Reestit gizz. Singed wig. 53. Warst ava. Worst cf all. 



SELECTED POEMS 135 

XIX 
But a' your doings to rehearse. 
Your wily snares an' fechtin^* fierce. 
Sin' that day Michael* did you, pierce, 

Down to this time, 
Wad ding^^ a Lallan^'' tongue, or Erse,^^ 

In prose or rhyme. 

XX 

An' now, auld Cloots,^^ I ken ye're thinkin, 
A certain Bardie's ranting® drinkin, 
Some luckless hour will send him linkin,^® 

To your black pit; 
But, faith ! he'll turn a comer jinkin,®^ 

An' cheat you yet. 

XXI 

But fare you weel, auld ISTickie-ben ! 
wad ye tak a thought an' men'!^^ 
Ye aiblins^^ might — I dinna ken — 

Still hae a stake^ — 
I'm wae^^ to think upo' yon den, 

Ev'n for your sake ! 



.54. Fechtin. Fighting. 60. Linkin. Tripping. 

55. Diner. Baffle. 61. Jinkin. Dodging. 

56. Lallan. Lowland. 62. An' men'. And mend. 

57. Erse. Gaelic (Highland). 63. Aiblins. Perhaps. 

58. Cloots. Hoofs. 64. Stake. A chance in the game, 

59. Rantin. Roistering. 65. Wae. Sad (woe). 



136 SELECTED POEMS 

EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH 

"Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul! 
Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society! 
I owe thee much " Blair. 

[Written probably early in 1786, after Burns's decision to 
publish his poems (see stanza vii). 

Smith kept a small shop in Mauchline during the time of 
his intimacy with Burns. He was with the poet on the visit 
to ^'Poosie-Nansie's" which resulted in "The Jolly Beggars," 
and was a steadfast friend during the trouble with the 
Armour family.] 

I 
Dear Smith, the sleest^, paukie^ thief, 
That e'er attempted stealth or rief/ 
Ye surely hae some warlock-breef^ 

Owre human hearts; 
For ne'er a bosom yet was prief^ 

Against your arts. 



II 
For me, I swear by sun an' moon. 
And ev'ry star that blinks aboon/ 
Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon/ 

Just gaun^ to see 3'ou ; 
And ev'ry ither pair that's done, 

Mair taen^ I'm wi' you. 

Ill 
That auld, capricious carlin,^ Nature, 
To mak amends for scrimpit stature. 
She's turn'd you off, a human creature 

On her first plan. 
And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature. 

She's wrote the Man. 



1. Sleest, paukie. Slyest, cunning. 6. Shoon. Shoes. 

2. Rief. Robbery. 7. Gaun. Going. 

3. Warlock-breef. Wizardry. 8. Mair taen. More taken. 

4. Prief. Proof. 9. Carlin. Beldam, witch. 

5. Aboon. Above. 



SELECTED POEMS 137 

IV 
Just now IVe taen the fit o^ rhyme. 
My barmie^^ noddle's working prime, 
My fancy yerkit^^ np sublime 

Wi' hasty summon : 
Hae ye a leisure-moment's time 

To hear what's comin? 



V 

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash: 

Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; 

Some rhyme to court the countra clash/- 

An' raise a din; 
For me, an aim I never fash;^^ 

I rhyme for fun. 

VI 

The star that rules my luckless lot, 

Has fated me the russet coat. 

An' damn'd my fortune to the groat; 

But, in requit. 
Has blest me with a random shot 

0' countra wit. 



VII 

This while my notion's taen a sklent,^^ 
To try my fate in guid, black prent;^^ 
But still the mair I'm that way bent, 

Something cries "Hoolie !^^ 
I red^^ you, honest man, tak tent!^^ 

Ye'll shaw^'-^ your folly. 

10. Barniie. Yeasty. 15. Prent. Print. 

11. Yerkit. Jerked. 16. Hoolie. Slowly. 

12. Clash. Idle talk. 17. Red. Advise. 

13. Fash. Trouble about. 18. Tent. Heed. 

14. Sklent. Slant, turn. 19. Shaw. Show. 



138 SELECTED POEMS 

VIII 

^There's ither poets, much your betters, 
Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, 
Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors, 

A^ future ages; 
Now moths deform, in shapeless tatters. 

Their unknown pages." 



IX 

Then farewell hopes o^ laurel-boughs, 
To garland my poetic brows ! 
Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs 

Are whistling thrang,^^ 
An' teach the lanely heights an' howes^^ 

My rustic sang. 



X 

I'll wander on, wi' tentless^^ heed 
How never-halting moments speed. 
Till fate shall snap the brittle thread; 

Then, all unknown, 
I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead, 

Forgot and gone! 



XI 

But 'why o' death begin a tale ? 

Just now we're living sound and hale; 

Then top and maintop crowd the sail. 

Heave Care o'er-side! 
And large, before Enjoyment's gale. 

Let's tak the tide. 



20. Thrang. Busily. 22. Tentless. Careless. 

21. Howes. Hollows. 



SELECTED POEMS 139 

XII 
This life^ sae far^s I understand. 
Is a^ enchanted fairy-land, 
AVhere Pleasure is the magic wand 

That, wielded right, 
Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand. 

Dance by fu' light. 



XIII 

The magic wand then let us wield ; 
For, ance that five-an^-forty's speerd,^^ 
See, crazy, weary, joyless Eild,^* 

Wi^ wrinkFd face, 
Comes hostin, hirplin,^^ owrre the field, 

Wi^ creepin pace. 



XIV 

When ance lifers day draws near the gloamin. 
Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin; 
An' fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin. 

An' social noise; 
An' fareweel dear deluding woman. 

The joy of joys! 



XV 

Life! how pleasant in thy morning. 
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning ! 
Cold-pausing Caution's lesson s(X)rning, 

We frisk away, 
Tiike school-boys, at th' expected warning. 

To joy an' play. 



2r{ Sneel'd. Climbed. 25. Hostin, hirplin. rout^hiriK. liini>- 

24. Eild. Age. ing. 



MO SELECTED POEMS 

XVI 
We wander there^, we wander here^ 
We eye the rose upon the brier, 
Unmindful that the thorn is near, 

Among the leaves ; 
And tho' the puny wound appear, 

Short while it grieves. 



XVII 

Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot, 
For which they never toiFd nor swat;^^ 
They drink the sweet and eat the fat, 

But^^ care or pain; 
And, haply, eye the barren hut 

With high disdain. 



XVIII 

With steady aim, some Fortune chase; 
Keen Hope does ev^ry sinew brace; 
Thro^ fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, 

A.nd seize the prey: 
Then canie,^^ in some cozie place. 

They close the day. 



XIX 

And' others, like 3^our humble servan'. 
Poor wights ! nae rules nor roads observin, 
To right or left eternal swervin, 

They zig-zag on; 
Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin. 

They aften groan. 



26. Swat. Sweated. 28. Canie. Quiet. 

27. But. Without. 



SELECTED POEMS 141 

XX 
Alas ! what bitter toil an' straining — 
But truce with peevish^ poor complaining I 
Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning? 

E'en let her gang !-^ 
Beneath what light she has remaining, 

Let's sing our sang. 

XXI 

My pen I here fling to the door^ 

And kneel^ ye Pow'rs ! and warm implore, 

^^Tho' I should wander Terra o'er, 

In all her climes, 
Grant me but this, I ask no more, 

Ay rowth^^ o' rhymes. 

XXII 

^^Gie dreeping^^ roasts to countra lairds, 

Till icicles hing frae their beards ; 

(xie fine braw claes^^ to fine life-guards, 

And maids of honor : 
And yilP^ an' whisky gie to cairds,^^ 

Until they sconner.^^ 

XXIII 

^^A title, Dempster* merits it; 

A garter gie to Willie Pitt;* 

Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit,^^ 

In cent, per cent. 
But give me real, sterling wit. 

And I'm content. 



29. Gang. Go. 33. Yill. Ale. 

if). Rowth. Plenty. 34. Cairds. Tinkers 

1. Gie dreeping. Give drippinp. 35. Sconner. Sicken. 

'2. Braw claes. Hnndaotne clothe.s. 3(). Cit. C.itizeu. 



142 SELECTED POEMS 

XXIV 

••While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, 
ril sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
Be't water-brose or mnslin-kail,^^ 

Wi' cheerfu' face. 
As lang's the Muses dinna^^ fail 

To say the grace/' 

XXV 

An anxious e'e^^ I never throws 
Behint my lug,*^ or by my nose: 
I jouk*^ beneath Misfortune's blows 

As weel's I may; 
Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, 

I rhyme away. 

XXVI 

ye douce^^ folk that live by rule,* 
Grave, tideless-blooded, calm an' cool, 
Compar'd wi' you — fool ! fool ! fool ! 

How much unlike! 
Your hearts are just a standing pool. 
Your lives, a dyke! 

XXVII 

Nae hair-brained, sentimental traces 
In your unletter'd, nameless faces! 
In arioso* trills and graces 

Ye never stray; 
But gravissimo^ solemn basses 

Ye hum away. 

37. Water-brose or muslin-kail. Por- 39. E*e. Eye. 
ridge made with water, or a broth 40. Lug. Ear. 

of water, shelled barley, anc 41. Jouk, Duck. 
greens. 42. Douce. Prudent. 

38. Dinna. Do not. 



SELECTED POEMS 143 

XXVIII 

Ye are sae grave^ nae doubt ye're wise ; 

Nae ferly^^ tho^ ye do despise 

The hainim-scainim, ram-stam*^ boys. 

The rattlin squad: 
I see you upward cast your eyes — 

Ye ken*^ the road — 



XXIX 

Whilst I — but I shall haud^^ me there, 
Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where — 
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, 

But quat^^ my sang. 
Content wi' you to mak a pair, 

Whare'er I gang. 



' TO A LOUSE 

ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY's BONNET AT CHURCTI 

[Presumably written in 1786. 

Noteworthy for the last stanza, the first four lines of which 
are one of the most widely quoted passages in Burns's works.] 

I 
Ha! whare ye gauil/ ye crowlin ferlie?- 
Your impudence protects you sairly;^ 
I canna say but ye strUnt^ rarely, 

Owre gauze and lace; 
Tho^, faith ! I fear ye dine but sparely 

On sie^ a place. 



43. Ferly. Wonder. 1. Gaun. Going. 

44. Ram-stam. Thoughtless. 2. Ferlie. Wonder. 
46. Ken. Know. 3. Sairly. Sorely. 

46. Haud. Hold 4. Ptrunt. Strut. 

47. Quat. Quit. • 5. Sic. Such. 



144 SELECTED POEMS 

II 
Ye ugly, creepin^ blastit wonner/ 
Detested, shunned by saunt an^ sinner. 
How daur ye set your fit^ upon her, 

Sae fine a lady? 
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner 

On some poor body. 

Ill 
Swith !^ in some beggar's haffet^ squattle ;^^ 
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattlc,^^ 
AVi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, 

In shoals and nations ; 
Whare horn nor bane^^ ne'er daur unsettle 

Your thick plantations. 

IV 

Now haud^^ you there, ye're out o' sight. 
Below the fatt'rils,^^ snug an' tight; 
Na, faith ye yet ! ye'll no be right 

Till ye've got on it. 
The vera tapmost, tow'rin height 

0' Miss's bonnet. 

V 

My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out. 
As plump an' gray as onie groset :^^ 
for some rank, mercurial rozet,^® 

Or fell,^^ red smeddum !^^ 
I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, 

Wad dress your droddum.^^ 

6. Wonner. Wonder. 13. Haud. Hold. 

7. Fit. Foot. 14. Fatt'rils. Ribbon-ends. 

8. Swith. Quick. 15. Groset. Gooseberry. 

9. Haffet. Temples. 16. Rozet. Rosin. 

10. Squattle. Settle. 17. Fell. Deadly. 

11. Sprattle. Scramble. 18. Smeddum. Dust. 

12. Horn nor bane. A comb fhorn 19. Droddum. Breech, 
or bone). 



SELECTED POEMS 145 

I wad na been surprised to spy 
You on an auld wife's flainen toy f^ 
Or aiblins^^ some bit duddie^^ boy, 

On's wyliecoat;^^ 
But Misses fine Lunardi l^* fie ! 

How daur^^ ye do't? 

VII 

Jenny, dinna^^ toss your head, 
An^ set your beauties a' abread !^^ 
Ye little ken what cursed speed 

The blastie's^^ makin! 
Thae^^ winks an' finger-ends, I dread, 

Are notice takin ! 

VIII 

wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us 

To see oursels as ithers see us ! 

It wad frae monie a blunder free us. 

An' foolish notion : 
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e^^ us. 

An' ev'n devotion ! 



20. Flainen toy. Flannel cap. 25. Daur. Dare. 

21. Aiblins. Perhaps. 26. Dinna. Do not. 

22. Bit duddie. Little ragged. 27. Abread. Abroad. 

23. Wyliecoat. Undervest. 28. Blastie. Littlo wrotrh. 
iM. Lunardi. Balloon bonnet. Lun- 29. Thae. Those. 

ardi was the name of a famous 30. Lea'e. Leave, 
balloonist. 



146 SELECTED POEMS 

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY 

ON TUENING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH IN 
APRIL, 178G 

[Written after Burns was in trouble with the Armours and' 
thought of going to the West Indies. Of course he himself 
is the **simple Bard" (stanza vii).] 



I 

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower. 
Thongs met me in an evil hour; 
For I maun^ crush amang the stoure^ 

Thy slender stem. 
To spare thee now is past my poVr, 

Thou bonie gem. 



II 

Alas! it^s no thy neebor sweet. 
The bonie lark, companion meet ! 
Bending thee ^mang the dewy weet,^ 

Wi^ spreckFd breast, 
When upward-springing^ blythe, to greet 

The purpling east. 

Ill 
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 

Amid the storm. 
Scarce reared above the, parent-earth 

Thy tender form. 



1. Matin. Must. 3. Weet. Wet. 

2. Stoure. Dust. 



SELECTED POEMS 147 

IV 
The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
High sheltering woods and wa's* maun shield ; 
But thou, beneath the random bield^ 

0' clod or stane. 
Adorns the histie^ stibble-field. 

Unseen, alane. 



V 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 
Thou lifts thy unassuining head 

In humble guise; 
But now the share uptears thy bed. 

And low thou lies! 



VI 

Such is the fate of artless maid. 
Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 
By love's simplicity betray'd, 
And guileless trust, 
Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 
Low i' the dust. 



VII 

Such is the fate of simple Bard, 

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! 

Unskillful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore. 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er! 



4. Wa's. Walls. 0. Histie. Barren. 

5. Bield. Shelter. 



148 SELECTED POEMS 

VIII 
Such fate to suffering Worth is giv^n^ 
Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, 
By human pride or cunning driven 

To misery's brink; 
Till, wrenched of ev'ry stay but Heaven, 

He, ruin'd, sink! 

IX 

Ev^n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, 
That fate is thine— no distant date ; 
Stern Euin^s ploughshare drives, elate, 

Full on thy bloom, 
Till erush'd beneath the furrow^s weight 

Shall be thy doom ! 



EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEN"D 

May , ] 7 8 6 . 

[This poem was addressed to Andrew Aiken, son of Robert 
Aiken of Ayr, to whom *'Th3 Cotter's Saturday Night" was 
dedicated. It is frankly (Jidactic and not highly poetic; yet 
it is excellent eighteenth- century verse and contains a number 
of memorable lines. It has been criticized as inconsistent with 
the poet's oAvn practices. The last lines, however, show that 
Burns made no hypocritical pretenses; like most purveyors of 
good advice, he "knew better than he did."] 



I 
I lang hae thought^ my youthfu^ friend, 

A something to have sent you, 
Tho^ it should serve nae ither end 

Than just a kind memento; 
But how the subject-theme may gang, 

Let time and chance determine; 
Perhaps it may turn out a sang ; 

Perhaps turn out a sermon. 



I 



SELECTED POEMS 149 

II 
Ye^U try the world soon, my lad; 

And, Andrew dear, believe me, 
Ye^U find mankind an unco^ squad, 

And muckle^ they maj^ grieve ye : • 
For care and trouble set your thought, 

Ev^n when your end^s attained; 
And a^ your views may come to nought, 

Where eVry nerve is strained; 

III 
1^11 no say, men are villains a' ; 

The real, hardened wicked, 
Wha hae nae check but human law, 

Are to a few restricked ; 
But, och ! mankind are unco weak, 

An^ little to be trusted; 
If Self the wavering balance shake, 

It^s rarely right adjusted ! 

IV 

Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife. 

Their fate we should na censure ; 
For still, th' important end of life 

They equally may answer: 
A man may hae an honest heart, 

Tho' poortith^ hourly stare him; 
A man may tak a neebor's part, 

Yet hae nae cash to spare him. 

V 

Ay free, aff-han', your story tell. 

When wi' a bosom crony; 
"Rut still keep something to yoursel 

Ye scarcely tell to ony. 

1. Unco. Stranpo .S. Poortith. Poverty. 

2. Muckle. Much. 



150 SELECTED POEMS 

Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can 

Frae critical dissection ; 
But keek* thro' ev'ry other man, 

Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection. ' 

VI 

The sacred lowe^ o' weel-plac^d love. 

Luxuriantly indulge it; 
But never tempt th' illicit rove, 

Tho' naething should divulge it: 
I waive the quantum o' the sin. 

The hazard of concealing; 
But, och! it hardens a' within, 

And petrifies the feeling! 

VII 

To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile. 

Assiduous wait upon her; 
And gather gear® by ev'ry wile 

That's justified by honor: 
Not for to hide it in a hedge, 

Nor for a train-attendant; 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent. 

VIII 

The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip, 

To haud^ the wretch in order; 
But where ye feel your honor grip, 

Let that ay be your border : ^ 

Tts slightest touches, instant pause — I 

Debar a' side pretences; 
And resolutely keep its laws, 

Uncaring consequences. 

4. Keek. Peep. 6. Gtetir. Property. 

5 Lowe. Flame. 7. Haud. Hold. 



SELECTED POEMS 151 

IX 

The great Creator to revere 

Must sure become the creature; 
But still the preaching cant forbear, 

And ev^n the rigid feature : 
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range 

Be complaisance extended ; 
An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange 

For Deity offended ! 

X 

When ranting tound in Pleasure's ring, 

Eeligion may be blinded; 
Or if she gie^ a random sting, 

It may be little minded ; 
But when on life we're tempest-driv'n — 

A conscience but a canker — 
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n, 

Is sure a noble anchor ! 

XI 

Adieu, dear, amiable youth! 

Your heart can ne'er be wanting ! 
May prudence, fortitude, and truth, 

Erect your brow undaunting! 
In ploughman phrase, ^^God send you speed/' 

Still daily to grow wiser; 
And may ye better reck the rede,^ 

Than ever did th' adviser! 



8. Gie. Oive. 

9. Reck the rede. Heed the advice* 



152 SELECTED POEMS 

A BAED'S EPITAPH 

[Written during the period of despondency in 1786, shortly 
before the publication of the Kilmarnock edition; placed at 
the end of that edition as if intended for a sort of epilogue. 
The self-characterization and the self-pity of the lines are 
obvious.] 

I 
Is there a whim-inspired fool, 
Owre^ fast for thought, owre hot for rule, 
Owre blate^ to seek, owre proud to snool/ 

Let him draw near; 
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,* 
And drap a tear. 

II 
Is there a Bard of rustic song, 
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 
That weekly this area throng, 

0, pass not by ! 
But, with a frater-feeling strong. 

Here heave a sigh. 

Ill 
Is there a man whose judgment clear 
Can others teach the course to steer. 
Yet runs, himself, lifers mad career. 

Wild as the wave; 
Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear. 

Survey this grave. 

IV 

The poor inhabitant below * I 

Was quick to learn and wise to know, ' 

And keenly felt the friendly glow. 

And softer flame ; 
But thoughtless follies laid him low. 

And stained his name ! 

1. Owre. Too (over). 3. Snool. Cringe. 

2. Blate. Bashful. 4. Dool. Woe (dole). 



SELECTED POEMS 153 

V 

Eeader, attend! whether thy soul 
Soars fancy^s flights beyond the pole, 
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, 

In low pursuit; 
Know, prudent, cautious self-control 

Is wisdom's root. 



ADDEESS OF BEELZEBUB 

TO THE EARL OF BREADALBANE, PRESIDENT OF THE 
HIGHLAND SOCIETY 

[According to the old chronology which put the creation 
at 4004 B.C., the date of this poern^"lst June, Anno Mundi 
5790" — must have been June 1, 1786. It was first printed in 
the Edinburgh Magazine in 1818. The following heading, 
originally prefixed to the poem, explains its meaning: "To 
the Right Honorable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of 
the Right Honorable the Highland Society, which met on the 
23rd of May last, at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to con- 
cert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hun- 
dred Highlanders who, as the Society were informed by Mr. 
McKenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an 
escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property 
they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald 
of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that 
fantastic thing — Liberty." The sustained and bitter irony 
must continually be kept in mind.] ^ 

Long life^ my lord, an^ health be yours, 
Unskaith^d^ by hnnger'd Highland boors ! 
Lord grant nae duddie,^ desperate beggar, 
Wi^ dirk, claymore,^ or rusty trigger, 
^ May twin* auld Scotland o^ a life 
She likes — as lambkins like a knife! 



Unskaith*d. Unhurt. 3. Claymore. A two-hanflod sword. 

Duddie. Ragjiofl. \. Twin. Doprivo. 



154 SELECTED POEMS 

Faith! you aijd Applecross were right 
To keep the Highland hounds in sight! 
I doubt na ! they wad bid^ nae better 

^^ Than let them ance out owre the water ! 
Then up amang thae^ lakes and seas, 
They'll mak what rules and laws they please : 
Some daring Hancock, or a Franklin,* 
May set their Highland bluid a-ranklin; 

^^ Some Washington again may head them, 
Or some Montgomer}^,* fearless, lead them; 
Till (God knows what may be effected 
When by such heads and hearts directed) 
Poor dunghill sons of dirt an' mire 

^^ May to Patrician rights aspire! 

N"ae sage North now, nor sager Sackville,* 
To watch and premier o'er the pack vile ! 
An^ whare will ye get Howes and Clintons* 
To bring them to a right repentance — 

2^ To CO we the rebel generation. 

An' save the honor o' the nation? 
They,' an' be damn'd ! what right hae they 
To meat, or .sleep, or light o' day ? 
Far less to riches, pow'r, or freedom, 

^^ But what your lordship like to gie them? 

But hear, my lord ! Glengar}^ hear ! 
Your hand's owre light on them, I fear; 
Your factors, grieves,*^ trustees, and bailies, 
I canna say but they do gaylies;^ 
35 They lay aside a' tender mercies. 

An' tirl the bullions^ to the birses.^^ 

Yet while they're only poind and herriet,^^ 

They'll keep their stubborn Highland spirit. 

5. Bid. Ask, wish. 9. Tirl the bullions. Strip the 

6. Thae. Those. slovens. 

7. Grieves. Overseers. 10. Birses. Bristles. 

8. Gaylies. Pretty well. 11. Poind and herriet. Distrained 

and harried. 



40 



SELECTED P0EM8 155 

But smash them ! crush them a' to spails/- 
An' rot the dyvors^^ i' the jails ! 
The young dogs, swinge^* them to the labor ; 
Let wark an' hunger mak them sober I 
The hizzies/^ if they're aughtlins fawsont/^ 
Let them in Drury Lane* be lesson'd ! 

45 An' if the wives an' dirty brats 

Come thiggin^'' at your doors an' yetts/^ 
Flaffin wi' duds/^ an' grey wi' beas',^^ 
Frightin awa your deuks an' geese. 
Get out a horsewhip or a jowler/^ 

^^ The langest thong, the fiercest growler,^^ 
An' gar-^ the tatter'd gypsies pack 
Wi' a' their bastards on their back ! 
Go on, my lord ! I lang to meet you, 
An' in my "house at hame" to greet you. 

55 y^i^ common lords ye shanna mingle: 
The benmost neuk^* beside the ingle,^^ 
At my right han' assigned your seat, 
'Tween Herod's hip an' Polycrate ;* 
Or (if you on your station tarrow^^) 
Between Almagro and Pizarro,* 
A seat, I'm sure ye're weel deservin't ; 
An' till ye come — ^your humble servant, 

Beelzebub. 



12. Spails. Chips. 20. Beas*. Vermin. 

13. Dyvors. Bankrupts. 21. Jowler. A he^vy-jawed dog. 

14. Swinge. Scourge. 22. Growler. A surly dog. 

15. Hizzies. Young women. 23. Gar. Make. 

1 (>. Aughtlins fawsont. At all decent. 24. Benmost neuk. Inmost corner 

17. Thiggin. Begging. 25. Ingle. Fire. 

IS. Yetts. Gates. 26. Tarrow. Tarry, hesitate. 
10. Flaffin wi» duds. Flapping with 
rags. 



fiO 



156 SELECTED POEMS 

ADDKESS TO THE UNCO GUID^ 

OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS 

My Son, these maxims miake a rule, 

An' lump them ay thegither: 
The Rigid Righteous is a fool. 

The Rigid Wise anither ; 
The cleanest corn that ere was dight^ 

May hae some pyles o' caft^ in; 
So ne'er a fellow creature slight 

For random fits o' daffin.^ 

Solomon. — ^Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16. 

[Probably written in 1786, but after the Kilmarnock edi- 
tion appeared, as this poem was first published in the Edin- 
burgh edition of 1787. 

Related in thought to such work as "Holy Willie's Prayer." 
See also stanza xxvi of the '^Epistle to James Smith ' 
(page 142).] 

I 

ye wha are sae guid yoursel, 

Sae pious and sae holy, 
YeVe nought to do but mark and tell 

Your neebor^s f auts^ and folly ! 
Whase life is like a weel-gaun^ mill, 

Supplied wi^ store o^ water; 
The heapet happer^s^ ebbing still, 

An^ still the clap plays clatter.® 

II 
Hear me, ye venerable core,® 

As counsel for poor mortals 
That frequent pass douce^^ Wisdom's door 

-For glaikit^^ Folty's portals; 
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes 

Would here propone defences — 
Their donsie^^ tricks, their black mistakes^ 

Their failings and mischances. 

1. Unco guid. Remarkably good. 8. Clap plays clatter. Clapper 

2. Dight. Winnowed. makes a noise. 

3. Pyles o' caff. Grains of chaff. 9. Core. Company (corps). 

4. Baffin. Fun. 10. Douce. Sedate, grave. 

5. Fauts. Faults. 11. Glaikit. Foolish, giddy. 

6. Weel-gaun. Well going. 12. Donsie. Unlucky. 

7. Happer. Hopper. ' 



SELECTED POEMS 157 

III 

Ye see your state wi^ theirs eompar'd. 

And shudder at the niflfer/^ 
But cast a moment's fair regard^ 

What maks the mighty differ? 
Discount what scant occasion gave, 

That purity ye pride in, 
And (what's aft mair^* than a' the lave^^) 

Your better art o' hidin„ 

IV 

Think, when your castigated pulse 

Gies^^ now and then a wallop. 
What ragings must his veins convulse, 

That still eternal gallop! 
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, 

Eight on ye scud your sea-way ; 
But in the teeth o' baith to sail, 

It maks an unco lee-way. 

V 

See Social-life and Glee sit down, 

All joyous and unthinking, 
Till, quite transmugrify'd,^^ they're grown 

Debauchery and Drinking : 
v/ould they stay to calculate 

Th' eternal consequences ; 
Or — your more dreaded hell to state — 

Damnation of expenses ! 

VI 

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, 

Tied up in godly laces, 
Beffere ye gie poor Frailty names, 

Suppose a change o' cases ; 

13. Niffer. Exchange. U). Gies. Civos. 

11. Aft mair. Ofton moro. 17. Transmugrify'd. Trnnsfornied. 

15. Lave. JJcst. 



158 SELECTED POEMS 

A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug, 
A treacherous inclination — 

But, let me whisper i' your lug/® 
Ye^re aiblins^® nae temptation. 

VII 

Then gently scan your brother man^, 

Still gentler sister woman; 
Tho' they may gang a kennin^^ wrang, 

To step aside is human: 
One point must still be greatly dark. 

The moving why they do it; 
And just as lamely can ye mark, 

How far perhaps they rue it. 

VIII 

Who made the heart, ^tis He alone 

Decidedly can try us; 
He knows each chord, its various tone, 

Each spring, its various bias : 
Then at the balance let's be mute, 

We never can adjust it ; 
What^s done we partly may compute 

But know not what's resisted. 



18. Lufir. Ear. 

19. Aiblins. Perhaps. 

20. Kennin. Trifle. 



T"^ 



f 



' 



SELECTED POEMS 159 

Addkess to a haggis 

[Written rather early in Burns's first stay at Edinburgh; 
published in the Caledonian Mercury for December 19, 1780, 
then in the Scots Magazine for January, 1787, and in the 
first Edinburgh edition of Burns's poems. 

A haggis is a sort of pudding made of sheep's entrails, 
onions, and oatmeal, boiled in a sheep's stomach; it is said to 
be a good antidote to whisky. "Painch, tripe, or thairm" 
(stanza i) were also used similarly in puddings.] 



I 
Fair fa'* your honest, sonsie^ face. 
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race ! 
Aboon^ them a' ye tak yonr place, 

Painch,^ tripe, or thairm: 
Weel are ye wordy® of a grace 

As lang's my arm. 



n 

The groaning trencher there ye fill. 
Your hurdies^ like a distant hill, 
YoTir pin^ wad help to mend a mill 

In time o' need, 
While thro' your pores the dews distil 

Like amber bead. 



Ill 

His knife see rustic Labor dight,® • 
An' cut you up wi' ready slight, 
Trenching your gushing entrails bright, 

^ Like OJiie ditch ; 
And then, what a glorious sight, 
Warm-reekin, rich ! 

1. Fair fa*. Benediction on. 6. Wordy. Worthy. 

2. Sonsie. Pleasant. 7. Hurdies. I.oina. 

3. Aboon. Above. 8. Pin. A long metal or wooden 

4. Painch. Pnunch. skewer. 

5. Thairm. Intestine. 9, Dight. Wipe. 



IGO SELECTED POEMS 

IV 

Then, horn^® for horn^ they stretch an' strive ; 
Deil tak the hindmost^ on they drive, ^^ 

Till 2i their weel-swalFd kytes belyve^^ mm 

Are bent like drums ; ^^ 

Then auld Guidman^ maist like to rive/^ 

"Bethankit!''hnms. 

V 

Is there that owre his French ragout, 
Or olio^^ that wad staw^* a sow, 
Or fricassee wad mak her spew 

Wi' perfect sconner/^ 
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 

On sic' a dinner? 

VI 
Poor "devil ! see him owre his trash, 
As feckless^^ as a withered rash,^^ 
His^ spindle shank a guid whip-lash, 

His nieve^^ a nit;^^ 
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 

how unfit ! 

VII 

But mark the Eustic, haggis-fed ; 

The trembling earth resounds his tread ! 

Clap in his walie nieve^^ a blade, 

He'll mak it whisslef 
An^ legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,^^ 

Like taps o' thrissle.^^ 

10. Horn. A horn spoon. 16. Feckless. Weak. 

11. Weel-swall'd kytes belyve. Well- 17. Rash. Rush, reed, 
filled stomachs soon. 18. Nieve. Fist. 

12. Rive. Burst. 19. Fit. Nut. 

13. Olio, Meat and vegetables stewed 20. Walie nieve. Robust fist 
together. 21. Sned. Crop, cut ofif. 

14. Staw. Surfeit. 22. Taps o» thrissle. Tops of thistle. 

15. Sconner. Disgust. 



SELECTED POEMS 161 

VIII 
Ye Powers wha mak mankind your care, 
And dish them out their bill o^ fare, 
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking^^ ware 

That janps in luggies;^* 
But, if ye wish her gratefu^ p^a/^, 

Gie her a haggis! 



A WINTEE NIGHT 

"Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are. 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm ! 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
From seasons such as these?" — Shakespeare. 

[Written probably late in 1786; first printed in the Edin- 
burgh edition of 1787. 

The quotation prefixed to the poem is from King Lear, 
and the rather grandiloquent English portion in irregular 
meter is little more than an elaboration of the passage from 
Shakespeare.] 



When biting Boreas, fell and doure,^ 
Sharp shivers thro^ "the leafless bow'r; 
When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, 

Far south the lift/ 
Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r, 

Or whirling drift: 

Ae^ night the storm the steeples rocked, 
Poor Labor sweet in sleep was locked, 
AVhile bums/ wi' snawy wreaths up-choked, 

Wild-eddying swirl, 
Or, thro' the mining outlet bocked,^ 



10 



Down headlong hurl : 

23. Skinking. Watery, 2. Lift. Sky. 

24. Jaups in luggies. Splashes in 3. Ae. One. 
wooden dishes. 4. Bums. Rivuleta. 

1. Fell and doure. Koon and sovorc. 5. Kocked. VouiiUHi. 



162 SELECTED POEMS 



Listening the doors an^ winnocks® rattle, 
I thought me on the ourie^ cattle, 
^5 Or silly sheep, wha bide this, brattle^ 
0^ winter war, 
And thro^ the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle® 
Beneath a scar.^^ 



Ilk happing^^ bird, wee, helpless thing! 
20 That, in the merry months o^ spring. 
Delighted me to hear thee sing, 

What comes o' thee? 
Whare wilt thou cow^r^^ ^j^y chittering^^ wing, 
An' close thy e'e?^* 



25 Ev'n you, on murdering errands toiFd, 
Lone from your savage homes exilM, 
The blood-stain'd roost and sheep-cote spoiled 

My heart forgets. 
While pityless the tempest wild 

Sore on you beats. 



30 



Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, 
Dark-muffl'd, viewed the dreary plain ; 
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train, 

Rose in my soul, 
^^ When on my ear this plaintive strain, 

Slow-solemn, stole — 



1 



6. Wiimocks. Windows. 10. ScoTo Cliff. 

7. Ourie. Shivering. 11. Ilk happing. Each hoppinff. 

8. Brattle. Onset. 12. Cow'r. Cover. 

9. lairing, sprattle. Sinking, scram- 13. Chittering. Trembling. 
ble. 14. E'e. Eye. 



SELECTED POEMS 163 



*^Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust! 
And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost! 
Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows! 
Xot all your rage, as now united, shows 

More hard unkindness unrelenting, 

Vengeful malice unrepenting. 
Than heav'n-illumin^d Man on brother Man bestows ! 
See stern Oppression's iron grip, 

Or mad Ambition's gory hand, 
Sepiding, like blood-hounds from the slip, 

Woe, want, and murder o'er a land ! 
Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale, 
Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale. 
How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her side, 

The parasite empoisoning her ear, 

With all the servile wretches in the rear. 
Looks o'er proud Property, extended wide ; 

And eyes the simple, rustic hind. 
Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show — 

A creature of another kind. 

Some coarser substance, unrefin'd — 
Plac'd for her lordly use, thus far, thus vile, below ! 
^^Where* where is Love's fond, tender throe, 
With lordly Honor's lofty brow. 

The pow'rs you proudly own? 
Is there, beneath Love's noble name. 
Can harbor, dark, the selfish aim. 

To bless himself alone ! 
Mark Maiden-innocence a prey 

To love-pretending snares: 
This boasted Honor turns away, 
Shunning soft Pity's rising sway, 
Regardless of the tears and unavailing pray'rs ! 

Perhaps this hour, in Misery's squalid nest. 



164 SELECTED POEMS 



She strains your infant to her joyless breast^ 
And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking 
blast! 

"^Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down. 

Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, 

Whom friends and fortune quite disown! 
lU-satisfy'd keen Nature^s clamorous call, 

Stretch'd on his straw, he lays himself to sleep ; 
While through the ragged roof and chinky wall, 

Chill, o'er his slumbers, piles the drifty heap ! 

Think on the dungeon's grim confine, 

^\Tiere Guilt and poor Misfortune pine ! 

Guilt, erring man, relenting view! 

But shall thy legal rage pursue 

The wretch, already crushed low 

By cruel Fortune's undeserved blow? 
Aflfliction's sons are brothers in distress; 
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss !" 

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer 
Shook off the pouthery^^ snaw, 

And haiFd the morning with a cheer, 
A cottage-rousing craw. 

- But deep this truth impressed my mind — 
Thro' all His works abroad, 
^^ The heart benevolent and kind 

The most resembles God. 

15. Pouthery. Powder^-, 



90 



1 



SELECTED POEMS 165 

EPISTLE TO MES. SCOTT 

GUIDWIFE OF WAUCIIOPE HOUSE, ROXBURGHSHIRE 

[This poem was written in reply to a riming epistle from 
Mrs. Scott to Burns, dated February, 1787. Two years later 
the lady died (aged about sixty). After her death (in 1801) 
selections from her verses were published, and among them 
this poem of Burns's first appeared in print. 

The allusion, in stanza iii is to Burns's first love affair — 
with "Handsome Nell" (see page 187).] 

9 

I 

I mind it weel^ in early date, 

When I was beardless^ youngs and blate/ 

An^ first could thresh the barn, 
Or hand a yokin^ at the pleugh, 
An^, tho^ forfoughten^ sair eneugh, 

Yet Tinco* prond to learn ; 
When first amang the yellow corn 

A man I reckoned was, 
An' wi' the lave ilk^ merry morn 
Could rank my rig and lass/ 
Still shearing, and clearing 
The tither stooked raw,*^ 
Wi' clavers an' havers^ 
Wearing the day awa: 

II 
E'en then, a wish (I mind its pow'r), 
A wish tliat to my latest hour 

Shall strongly heave my breast. 
That I for poor auld Scotland's sake 
Some usefu' plan or book could make, 

Or sing a sang at least. 

1. Blate. Bashful. 6. Rank my rig and lass. A man 

?. Haud a yokin. Hold a yoking and a woman would take a 

(as much work as is done by "ridpe of hind. 

draught animals at one time). 7. Tither stocked raw. Other 

3. Forfoughten. Exhausted. stacked row, 

i. Unco. Very. 8. Clajrers an* havers. Goewip and 

o. Lave, ilk. Rest, each. tuhi>;<m»m<> 



106 SELECTED POEMS 

The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide 

Amang the bearded beai%^ 
I turn'd the weeder-clips aside. 
An' spar'd the symbol dear. 
No nation, no station. 

My envy e'er could raise ; 
A Scot still, but blot still, 
I knew nae higher praise. 

Ill 
But still the elements o' sang 
In formless jumble, right an' wrang, 

Wild floated in my brain ; 
'Till on that hairst^® I said before, 
My partner in the merry core, j 

She roused the forming strain. 
I see her yet, the sonsie quean^^ 

That lighted up my jingle. 
Her witching smile, her pauky een^^ 
That gart^^ my heart-strings tingle ; 
I fired, inspired. 
At ev'ry kindling keek,^* 
But, bashing and dashing/^ 
I feared ay to speak. 

IV 

Hale to the sex ! ilk guid chieP® says : 
Wi' merry dance in winter days, 

An' we to share in common! 
The gust^^ o' joy, the balm of woe, 
The saul o' lifp, the heav'n below, 

Is rapture-giving woman. 

9. Bear. Barley. 14. Keek. Pee^. 

10. Hairst. Harvest. 15. Bashing and dashing. Abashed 

11. Sonsie quean. Pleasant lass. and ashamed. 

12. Pauky een. Mischievous eyes. 16. Dk guid chiel. Every good fellow. 

13. Gart. Made. 17. Gust. Taste. 



SELECTED POEMS 167 

Ye surly sumphs/^ who hate the name, 

Be mindf u^ o^ your mither ; 
8h3, honest woman, may think shame 
That ye^re connected with her ! 
Ye^re wae^^ men, ye^re nae men 
That slight the lovely dears; 
To shame ye, disclaim ye, 
Ilk honest birkie^® swears. 

V 

For you, no^^ bred to barn and byre,** 
Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre, 

Thanks to you for your line ! 
The marled^^ plaid ye kindly spare. 
By me should gratefully be ware;^* 

'Twad please me to the nine.* 
rd be mair vauntie^^ o^ my hap,^^ 

Douce^'' hingin owre my curple,^^ 
Than onie ermine ever lap,^^ 
Or proud imperial purple. 

Farewell, then! lang hale^^ then, 

An' plenty be your fa'!^^ 
May losses and crosses 
Ne'er at your hallan ca' I^^ 

R. Burns. 

18. Sumphs. Blockheads. 28. Curple. Crupper. 

1,9. Wae. Woful. 29. Onie ermine ever lap. Any one 

20. Birkle. Fellow. who was ever covered with 

21. No. Not. ermine. 

22. Byre. Cow-house. 30. Hale. Health. 
28. Marled. Mottled. 31. Fa'. Lot (fall). 

24;. Ware. Worn. 32. Hallan ca'. Cottage call. (A 

26. Moir vauntie. More proud. hallan is specifically a partition 

26. Hap. Wrap. in~a dwelling.) 

27. Douce. Sedaidy. 



168 SELECTED POEMS 

THE HUMBLE PETITION OP BRUAE WATER 

TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE 

[Written during Burns's tour of the Highlands in 1787. 
but first published in the 1793 edition of his poems. Prompted 
by the fact that Bruar Falls, in Athol, were "exceedingly 
picturesque and beautiful, but their effect much im- 
paired by the want of trees and shrubs." (R.B.) The com- 
pliment in the last stanza is due to Burns's entertainment bv 
the Duke of Athol.] 

I 

My lord, I know your noble ear 

Woe ne'er assails in vain; 
Emboldened thus, I beg you'Jl hear 

Your humble slave complain. 
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams, 

In flaming summer pride, 
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams, 

And drink my crystal tide. 



II 
The lightly- jumping, glowrin^ trouts, 

That thro' mj^ waters play, 
If, in their random, wanton spouts. 

They near the margin stray ; 
If, hapless chance ! they linger lang, 

I'm scorching up so shallow. 
They're left the whitening stanes amang. 

In gasping death to wallow. 



Ill 
Last day I grat^ wi' spite and teen,^ 

As poet Burns came by, 
That, to a bard, I should be seen 

Wi' half my channel dry; 

1. Glowrin. Staring. 3. Teen. Vexation. 

2. Grat. Wept. 



SELECTED POEMS 169 

A panegyric rhyme^ I ween^ 
Even as I was, he shor'd* me; 

But had I in my glory been, 
He, kneeling, wad ador'd me. 

IV 

Here, foaming down the skelvy^ rocks, 

In twisting strength I rin ; 
There, high my boiling torrent smokes, 

Wild-roaring o^er a linn:^ 
Enjoying large each spring and well, 

As Nature gave them me, 
I am, altho^ I say't mysel, 

Worth gaun a mile to see. 

V 

Would, then, my noble master please 

To grant my highest wishes. 
He'll shade my banks wi^ towering trees 

And bonie spreading bushes. 
Delighted doubly, then, my lord, 

You'll wander on my banks. 
And listen mony a grateful bird 

Return you tuneful thanks. 

VI 

The sober lav'rock,"^ warbling wild, 

Shall to the skies aspire; 
The gowdspink,^ Music's gayest child, 

Shall sweetly join the choir; 
The blackbird strong, the lintwhite® clear. 

The mavis^^ mild and mellow. 
The robin pensive Autumn cheer, 

In all her locks of yellow. 

4. Shor'd. Offered. 8. Gowdspink- Goldfinch. 

5. Skelvy. Slorin^, shelving. 9. Lintwhite. Linnet. 

6. Linn. Waterfall. 10. Mavis. Thrush. 

7. Lav'rock. Lark. 



170 SELECTED POEMS 



VII 
This, too, a covert shall ensure, 

To shield them from the storm ; 
And coward maukin^^ sleep secure, 

Low in her grassy form : 
Here shall the shepherd make his seat, 

To weave his crown of flowers; 
Or find a sheltering, safe retreat 

From prone-descending showers. 

VIII 

And here, by sweet, endearing stealth. 

Shall meet the loving pair. 
Despising worlds, with all their wealth. 

As empty idle care; 
The flow'rs shall vie in all their charms 

The hour of heaven to grace ; 
And birks^^ extend their fragrant arms 

To screen the dear embrace. 

IX 

Here haply, too, at vernal dawn. 

Some musing bard may stray. 
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn 

And misty mountain grey; 
Or, by the reaper^s nightly beam. 

Mild-chequering thro^ the trees, 
Eave to my darkly dashing stream. 

Hoarse-swelling on the breeze. 

X 

Let lofty firs, and ashes cool, 
My lowly banks overspread. 

And view, deep-bending in the pool, 
Their shadows^ watery bed: 

11. Maukin. Rabbit. 12. Birks. Birches. 



SELECTED POEMS 171 

Let fragrant birks^ in woodbines drest, 

My craggy cliffs adorn. 
And, for the little songster's nest, 

The close embow'ring thorn. 



XI 

So may old Scotia^s darling hope, 

Your little angel band, 
Spring, like their fathers, np to prop 

Their honor'd native land ! 
So may, thro^ Albion's farthest ken, 

To social-flowing glasses, 
The grace be — ^^Athole's honest men, 

And Athole^s bonie lasses !'' 



THE WOUNDED HAEE 

["On seeing a wounded ^hare limp by me, which a fellow 
had Just shot at"; sent in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop in April, 
1789; published first in the edition of 1793.] 

I 
Inhuman man ! curse on thy barbarous art, 

And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye; 

May never pity soothe thee with a sigh, 
Nor never pleasure glad thv cruel heart ! 



Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field, 
The bitter little that of life remains ! 
No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains 

To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. 



172 SELECTED POEMS 

III 
Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest, 

No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! 

The sheltering rushes wdiistling o'er thy head, 
The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. 

IV 

Oft as by winding Nith I, musing, wait 
The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 
111 miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn, 

And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate. 

EPISTLE TO DE. BLACKLOCK 

[Dr. Blacklock was an elderly blind poet of Edinburgk 
whose letter to Burns soon after the appearance of his Kil- 
marnock edition decided the poet to go to Edinburgh instead 
of to Jamaica. The "epistle" Avas not published during Burns's 
lifetime, but was added by Currie in his edition of 1800. 
Stanzas ii and iii allude to the fact that Burns had sent a 
letter to Blacklock by his friend Robert Heron.] 

Ellisland, 21st October, 1789. 

I 

Wow, but your letter made me vauntie !^ 

And are ye hale, and weel^ and cantie?^ 

I kend^ it still, your wee bit j auntie* 

Wad bring ye to: 
Lord send you ay as weeFs I want ye, 

And then yell do ! 

> II 

The ill-thief^ blaw the Heron south. 
And never drink be near his drouth! 
He tauld mysel by word o^ mouth, 

He'd tak my letter ; 
I lippen'd to the chieP in trowth, 

And bade^ nae better. 

1. Vauntie. Proud. 5. Hl-thief. Devil. 

2. Cantie. Cheerful. 6. Lippen'd to the chiel. Trusted 

3. Kend. Knew, the fellow. 

4. Wee' bit jauntie. Little trip 7. Bade. Asked, 
(jaunt). 



SELECTED POEMS 173 

III 
But aiblins^ honest Master Heron 
Had, at the time, some dainty fair one 
To ware his theologic care on, 

And holy study, 
And, tired o' sauls to waste his lear^ on. 

E'en tried the body. 

IV 

But what d'ye think, my trusty fier ?^^ 
l^m turned a ganger — Peace be here ! 
Parnassian queires,^^ I fear, I fear, 

Ye'll now disdain me, 
And then my fifty pounds a year 

Will little gain me ! 

V 

Ye glaikit,^^ gleesome, dainty damies, 
Wha by Castalia^s wimplin^^ streamies* 
Lowp,^* sing, and lave your pretty limbies, 

Ye ken, ye ken. 
That Strang necessity supreme is 

''Mang sons o^ men. 

VI 

^ I hae a wife and twa wee laddies; 

They maun hae brose^^ and brats^® o' duddie^ ; 
Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is — 

I need na vaunt — 
But I'll sued besoms, thraw saugh woodies/^ 

Before they want. 

8. Aiblins. Perhaps. 14. Lowp. Leap. 

0. Lear. Learning. 15. Maun hae brose. Must have 

10. Fier. Comrade. porridge. 

11. Parnassian queires. Choirs of 16. Brats. Bits. 

Parnassus, the mountain of the 17. Sned besoms, thraw saugh 

Muses. ^ woodies. Cut brooms, twist 

12. Glaikit. Foolish. willow-ewitchea. 

13. Wimplin. Meandering. 



174 SELECTED POEMS 

VII 
Lord help me thro' this warld o' care ! 
Fm weary^ sick o't late and air!^® 
Not but I hae a richer share 

Than monie ithers; 
But why should ae^^ man better fare^ 

And a' men brithers? 

VIII 

Come^ firm Eesolve, take thou the van. 
Thou stalk o' carl-hemp^^ in man! 
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan 

A lady fair : 
Wha does the utmost that he can 

Will whyles^^ do mair. 

IX 

But to conclude my silly rhyme 

(I^m scant o' verse and scant o' time). 

To make a happy fireside clime 

To weans^^ and wife, 
That's the true pathos and sublime 

Of human life. 

X 

My compliments to sister Beckie, 
And eke the same to honest Luckie;* 
I wat she is a daintie chuckie^^ 

As e'er tread clay; 
And gratefully, my guid auld cockie,^* 

I'm yours for ay. 

Egbert Burns. 

18. Air. Early. 23. Chuckie. Mother hen (i. e., dear 

19. Ae. One. old lady). 

20. Carl-hemp. Male-hemp. 24. Cockie. Diminutive of cock 
2\. Whyles. Rometimes. (rooster). 

22 Weans. Children. 



SELECTED POEMS 175 

ELEGY ON" CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDEESON 

A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONORS 
IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD ! 

But noio Ms radiant course is run. 
For Matthew's course was bright; 

Hts soul was like the glorious sun, 
A matchless Heav'nly light. 

[Henderson was an army officer whom Burns met during his 
residence in Edinburgh, and who died November 21, 1788. Ap- 
parently Burns did not write this *'Elegy" till the summer of 
1790. At any rate, he sent copies of it to two different cor- 
respondents during July and August of that year, speaking of 
one of them as "a first fair copy." The poem was first pub- 
lished in the Edinburgh edition of 1793.] 

I 

Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ! 
The meikle^ devil wi^ a woodie^ 
HaurP thee hame to his black smiddie/ 

O'er hurcheon^ hides, 
And like stock-fish come o'er his studdie* 

Wi' thy auld sides ! 
II 
He's gane, he's gane ! he's frae us torn, 
The ae^ best fellow e'er was born ! 
Thee, Matthew, Nature's sel shall mourn 

By wood and wild, 
Where, haply, Pity strays forlorn, 

Frae man exil'd. 
Ill 
Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns,^ 
That proudly cock your cresting cairns! 
Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing yearns^ 

Where Echo slumbers! 
Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns,^^ 

My wailing numbers ! 

1. Meikle. Great. 6. Studdie. Anvil. 

2. Woodie. Rope. 7. Ae. One. 

;i Haurl. Drag. 8. Stams. Stars. 

4. Smiddie. Smithy. 9. Yearns. Eagles. 

5. Hurcheon. Hedgehog. 10. Bairns. Children. 



176 SELECTED POEMS 

IV 
Mourn, ilka^^ grove the cushat kensj^^ 
Ye hazly shaws^^ and briery dens ! 
Ye burnies, wimplin^^ down your glens 

Wi^ toddlin din, 
Or foaming, Strang, wi^ hasty stens/^ 

Frae lin to lin.^^ 



V 

Mourn, little harebells o'er the lea; 
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see ; 
Ye woodbines hanging bonilie 

In scented bow'rs; 
Ye roses on your thorny tree, 

The first o' flow'rs ! 



VI 

At dawn, when ev'ry grassy blade 

Droops with a diamond at his head, 

At eVn, when beans their fragrance shed 

I' th' rustling gale, 
Ye maukins, whiddin^"^ thro^ the glade, 

Come join my wail. 

VII 

Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the wood : 
Ye grouse that crap^^ the heather ])ud; 
Ye curlews, calling thro' a clud '^^ * 
-- Ye whistling plover: 

And mourn, ye whirring paitrick^^ brood ; 
He's gane for ever ! 

11. Ilka. Every. 16. Lin. Waterfall. 

12. Cushat kens. Wood-dove knows. 17. Maukins whiddin. Hares scu|^- 

13. Shaws. Woods. ding. 

14. Bumies wimplin. Brooks me- 18. Crap. Crop, nibble, 
andering. 19. Clud. Cloud. 

15. Stens. Leaps. 20. Paitrick. Partridge. 



SELECTED FOEMS 177 

VIII 
Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled teals; 
Ye fisher herons, watching eels ; 
Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels 

Circling the lake; 
Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, 

Kair^^ for his sake. 



IX 

Mourn, clam'ring craiks^^ at close o' day, 
^Mang fields o^ flowering clover gay : 
And when ye wing your annual way 

Frae our cauld shore, 
Tell thae^^ far warlds wha lies in clay. 

Wham we deplore. 

X 

Ye houlets,^* frae your ivy bow'r 

In some auld tree, or eldritch^^ tow'r, 

What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r, 

Sets up her horn,^^ 
Wail thro^ the dreary midnight hour 

Till waukrife^''' morn! 



XI 

rivers, forests, hills, and plains ! 
Oft have ye heard my canty^^ strains : 
But now, what else for me remains 

But tales of woe : 
And frae my een^^ the drapping rains 

Maun^° ever flow. 

21. Rair. Roar. 26. Sets up her horn. Points the 

22. Craiks. Corn-crakes (a kind of ends of her crescent upward, 
bird). 27. Waukrife. Wakeful. 

23. Thae. Those. 28. Canty. Cheerful. 

24. Houlets. Owlets. 29. Een. Eyes. 
-'). Eldritch. Haunted. 30. Maun. Must. 



178 SELECTED POEMS 

XII 
Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the year! 
Ilk^^ cowslip cup shall kep^^ a tear : 
Thou, Simmer, while each comy^^ spear 

Shoots up its head, 
Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear 

For him that's dead! 



XIII 

Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow hair, 
In grief thy gallow mantle tear! 
Thou, Winter, hurling thro' the air 

The roaring blast. 
Wide o'er the naked world declare 

The worth we've lost ! 



XIV 

Mourn him, thou Sun, great source of light ! 
Mourn, Empress of the silent night ! 
And you, ye twinkling starnies^* bright, 

My Matthew mourn ! 
For through your orbs he's taen his flight, 

Ne'er to return. 



XV 

Henderson, the man! the brother! 
And art thou gone, and gone forever? 
And hast thou crost that unknown river. 

Life's dreary bound? 
Like thee, where shall I find aitother, 

The world around ? 

31. Hk. Each. 33. Corny. Furnished with grains of 

32. Kep. Catch. corn. 

34. Stamies. Little stars. 



SELECTED POEMS 179 

XVI 

Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye Great, 
In a^ the tinsel trash o' state ! 
But by thy honest turf 1^11 wait. 

Thou man of worth ! 
And weep the ae^^ best fellow's fate 

E'er lay in earth. 



TAM 0' SHATTER 

A TALE 

"Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke." 

— Gawin Douglas. 

[Written late in 1790 or early in 1791; published in the 
Edinburgh Magazine for March, 1791, the Edinburgh Herald 
of March 18, 1791; in Francis Grose's Antiquities of Scotland, 
which appeared in April, 1791; and in the 1793 edition of 
Bums's poems. "Tarn o' Shanter" was really written for 
Grose's Antiquities, after Burns had suggested to the antiquary 
that Alloway Kirk deserved mention in the latter's book. 
The poem was suggested by a legend which Burns had sent, 
along with two others about Alloway Kirk, in a letter to 
Grose before the poem was written. Alloway Kirk is only 
a short distance from the cottage where Burns was born.] 

When chapman billies^ leave the street, 
And drouthy neebors neebors meet; 
x4s market-days are wearing late, 
An' folk begin to tak the gate f 
^ While we sit bousing at the nappy,* 
An' getting fou* and unco^ happy, 
We think na on the lang Scots miles. 
The mosses, waters, slaps,^ and styles, 
That lie between us and our hame, 
1^ Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame. 

Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 

35. Ae. One. 3. Nappy. Ale. 

1. Chapman billies. Peddler fel- 4. Fou. Full, drunk. 
lows. 5. Unco. Very. 

2. Tak the gate. Take the road (go 6. Slaps. Gaps in fences. 

home) . 



180 SELECTED POEMS 

This truth fand^ honest Tarn o' Shanter, 
As he f rae Ayr ae^ night did canter 
^^ (Anld Ayr, wham ne^er a town surpasses. 
For honest men and bonie lasses). 

Tarn ! hadst thou but been sae wise, 
As taen thy ain wife Kate^s advice ! 
She tauld thee weel thou was a skelltim,^ 

2^ A blethering/^ blustering, drunken blellum;^^ 
That frae November till October, 
Ae market-day thou was nae sober; 
That ilka melder^^ wi^ the miller. 
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; 

2^ That ev^ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,^^ 

The smith an thee gat roaring fou on; 
That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
Thou drank wi^ Kirkton Jean* till Monday. 
She prophesied that, late or soon. 
Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon, 
Or catch'd wi' warlocks^^ in the mirk;^^ 
By AUoway's auld haunted kirk.^® 

Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet,^^ 
To think how mony counsels sweet, 
2^ How mony lengthened, sage advices, 
The husband frae the wife despises! 

But to our tale : Ae market night. 
Tarn had got planted unco right. 
Fast by an ingle, bleezing^^ finely, 
40 ^^^ reaming swats^^ that drank divinely ; 

7. Fand. Found. 14. Warlocks. Wizards. 

8. Ae. One. 15. Mirk. Dark. 

9. Skellum. Good-for-nothing. 16. Kirk. Church. 

10. Blethering. Chattering. 17. Gars me greet. Makes me weep. 

11. Blellum. Babbler. 18. Inele, bleezing. Fire, blazing. 

12. Ilka melder. Every grinding. 19. Reaming swats. Foaming ale. 

13. Ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on. 
Every horse that was shod. 



30 



SELECTED POEMS 181 

And at his elbow^ Souter^® Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony: 
Tain lo^ed him like a vera brither; 
They had been f on for weeks thegither. 
The night drave on wi^ sangs and clatter. 
And ay the ale was growing better : 
The landlady and Tarn grew gracious, 
Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious : 
The souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : 
The storm without might rair^^ and rustle, 
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. 

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
E^en drov/n'd himsel amang the nappy r^^ 
As bees flee hame wi' lades o^ treasure, 
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : 
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious. 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! 

But pleasures are like poppies spread — 
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; 
Or like the snow falls in the river,* 
A moment white — then melts for ever ; 
Or like the borealis race. 
That flit ere you can point their place ; 
Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 
Evanishing amid the storm. — 
Nae man can tether time or tide; 
The hour approaches Tam maun^^ ride ; 
That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; 
And sic^* a night he taks the road in, 
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 



20. Souter. Shoemaker. 


23. Maun. Must. 


21. Rair. Roar. 


21. Sic. Such. 


22. Nappy. Ale. 





182 SELECTED POEMS 

Th^ wind blew as ^twad blawn its last ; 
The rattling showers rose on the blast; 
^5 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 
Loud, deep, and lang the thnnder bellow'd : 
That night, a child might understand, 
The Deil had business on his hand. 

Weel mounted on his gray mare Meg, 
^^ A better never lifted leg. 

Tarn skelpit^^ on thro' dnb^^ and mire. 
Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
Whyles^^ holding fast his guid blue bonnet, 
Whyles crooning o'er someauld Scots sonnet, 
85 Whyles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares. 
Lest bogles^^ catch him unawares : 
Kirk-AUoway was drawing nigh. 
Where ghaists and houlets^^ nightly cry. 

By this time he was cross the ford, 
^^ Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;^^ 

And past the birks^^ and meikle^^ stane, 

Whare drunken Charlie br air's neck-bane; 

And thro' the whins,^^ and by the cairn, 

Whare hunters f and the murder'd bairn f^ 
^^ And near the thorn, aboon^^ the well, 

Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. 

Before him Doon pours all his floods; 

The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; 

The lightnings flash from pole to pole; 
^^^ Near and more near the thunders roll; 

When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 

Kirk-AUoway seem'd in a bleeze;^^ 

25. Skelpit. Hurried. 31. Birks. Birches. 

26. Dub. Puddle. 32. Meikle. Big. 

27. Whyles. Sometimes. 33. Whins. Gorse, furze. 

28. Bogles. Hobgoblins. 34. Bairn. Child. 

29. Houlets. Owlets. 35. Aboon. Above. 

30. Chapman smoor'd. Peddler 36. Bleeze. Blaze. 
smothered. 



SELECTED POEMS 183 

Thro' ilka bore^^ the beams were glancing, 
And loud xesonnded mirth and dancing. 

1^^ Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! 

What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! 

Wi' tippenny/^ we fear nae evil; * 

Wi^ usquabae,^^ we'll face the devil ! 

The swats sae ream'd^^ in Tammie's noddle, 
^^^' Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle.*^ 

But Maggie stood, right sair astonished. 

Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd. 

She ventured forward on the light; 

And, vow! Tarn saw an unco*^ sight! 

1^^ Warlocks and witches in a dance: 

Nae cotillion, brent new^^ f rae France, 

But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels. 

Put life and mettle in their heels. 

A winnock-bunker^* in the east, 
120 There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 

A towzie tyke,^^ black, grim, and large, 

To gie them music was his charge : 

He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,*^ 

Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.*'^ 
125 Coffins stood round, like open presses. 

That shaVd the dead in their last dresses ; 

And by some devilish cantraip slight,^^ 

Each in its cauld hand held a light, 

By which heroic Tam was able 
^■•" To note upon the haly*^ table, 

37. nka bore. Every crevice. 43. Brent new. Brand-new. 

38. Tippenny. Twopence worth of 44. Winnock-bunker. Window-seat, 
ale. 45. Towzie tyke. Shaggy cur. 

30. Usquabae. Whisky. 4G. Gart them skirl. Made thoni 

40. Swats sae ream'd. Ale so s^>riok. 

foamed. 47. Dirl. Ring, vibrate. 

41. Na deils a boddle. Not a copper 48. Cantraip slight. Magic trick. 
for devils. 49. Haly. Holy. 

42. Unco. Strange, wondorful. 



184 SELECTED POEMS 

A murderer's banes in gibbet airns;^^ 

Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen^d bairns; 

A thief, new-cntted frae a rape, 

Wi' his last gasp his gab^^ did gape; 
135 JPiYe tomahawks, wi' blnid red-rusted; 

Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted ; 

A garter which a babe had strangled ; 

A knife, a father's throat had mangled. 

Whom his ain son o' life bereft — 
1^^ The grey hairs yet stack^^ to the heft; 

Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', 

Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. 

As Tammie glowrd,^^ amaz'd and curious, 
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : 

^'^^ The piper loud and louder blew; 
The dancers quiet and quicker flew; 
They reeFd, they set, they crossed, they cleekit/''^ 
Till ilka carlin^^ swat and reekit,^^ 
And coost'^ her duddies to the wark, 

150 And linket^^ at it in her sark!^^ 

Now Tarn, Tarn ! had thae^® been queans,^^ 
A' plump and strapping in their teens, 
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,^^ 
Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen !^^ 
155 Thir breeks^* o' mine, my only pair. 
That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdles,®^ 
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies !^® 

50. Aims. Irons. 60. Thae. Those. 

51. Gab. Mouth. 61. Queans. Girls. 

52. Stack, Stuck. 62. Creeshie flannen. Greasy flan- 

53. Glowr»d. Stared. nel. 

54. Cleekit. Joined hands. 63. Seventeen hunder linen. Very 

55. Ilka carlin. Every old woman. fine, woven in a reed of 1700 

56. Reekit. Steamed. divisions. 

57. Coost. Cast off. 64. Thir breeks. These breeches. 

58. Linket. Tripped. 65. Hurdies. Hips. 

59. Sark. Shirt. 66. Burdies. Maidens. 



18 



SELECTED POEMS 185 

But wither'd beldams^, auld and droll, 
160 Rigwoodie^^ hags wad spean^^ a foal, 
Louping an' flinging on a crummock,^® 
I wonder did na turn thy stomach. 

But Tarn kend what was what f u' brawlie :^^ 
There was ae winsome wench and wawlie/^ 

1®^ That night enlisted in the core 

(Lang after kend"^^ on Carrick shore. 
For mony a beast to dead she shot. 
And perish'd mony a bonie boat, 
And shook baith meikle^^ corn and bear/^ 

^^^ And kept the country-side in fear). 
Her cutty^^ sark, o' Paisley harn/^ 
That while a lassie she had worn, 
In longitude tho' sorely scanty. 
It was her best, and she was vauntie."^^ 

^"^^ Ah! little kend thy reverend grannie, 
That sark she coff^^ for her wee Nannie, 
Wi' twa pund"^^ Scots ('twas a' her riches). 
Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches! 

But here my Muse her wing maun cour f^ 
1^^ Sic flights are far beyond her power ; 
To sing how Nannie lap and flang^^ 
(A souple jade she was and Strang), 
And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd. 
And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
Even Satan glowr'd/^ and fidg'd fu' fain/^ 



07. Rigwoodie. Withered. 77. Vauntie. Proud. 

08. Wad spean. That would wean. 78. Coft. Bought. 

09. Crummock. Staff, cudgel. 79. Twa pund. Two pounds Scotch 

70. Fu' brawlie. Very well. (about eighty cents) . 

71. Wawlie, Choice. 80. Cour. Let down. 

72. Kend. Known. 81. Lap and flang. Leaped and 

73. Meikle. Much. kicked. 

74. Bear. Barley. 82. Glowr'd. Stared. 

75. Cutty. Short. 83. Fidg»d fu' fain. Fidgeted with 

76. Ham. A coarse linen. fondness. 



186 SELECTED POEMS 

And hotch'd^* and blew wi' might and main; 
Till first ae caper, syne^^ anither, 
Tarn tint^^ his reason a^ thegither, 
And roars out, ^^Weel done, Cntty-sark V^ 
1^^ And in an instant all was dark; 
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied. 
When ont the hellish legion sallied. 

As bees bizz ont wi' angry fyke,^'' 
When plundering herds^^ assail their byke ;®® 

^^^ As opeij pussie^s^® mortal foes, 

When, pop ! she starts before their nose ; 
As eager runs the market-crowd, 
When ^^Catch the thief V^ resounds aloud; 
So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 

200 ^j^? mony an eldritch^^ skreech and hollow. 

Ah, Tarn ! ah. Tarn ! thou'll get thy fairin l^^ 
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin ! 
Kate soon will be a woef u' woman ! 

205 JSTow, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 

And win the key-stane of the brig;^^* 
There, at them thou thy tail may toss. 
A running stream they dare na cross. 
But ere the key-stane she could make, 

210 The fient®* a tail she had to shake ! 
For Nannie, far before the rest. 
Hard upon noble Maggie prest. 
And flew at Tarn wi^ furious ettle;®^ 
But little wist she Maggie's mettle — 

215 Ae spring brought off her master hale, 
But left behind her ain gray tail : 

84. HotchM. Jerked. 90. Pussie. Hare, rabbit. 

85. Syne. Then. 91. Eldritch. Unearthly. 

86. Tint. Lost. 92. Fairin. Reward. 

87. Fyke. Fuss. 93. Brig. Bridge. 

88. Herds. Herd-boys. 94. Fient. Devil. 

89. Byke. Hive. 95. Ettle. Effort. 



SELECTED POEMS 187 

The carlin claught®^ her by the rump^ 
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 

N^ow, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
22<5 Ilk man, and mother^s son, take heed : 
Whenever to drink you are inclined, 
Or cutty sarks run in your mind, 
Think, ye may buy the joys o^er dear; 
Eemember Tam o' Shanter's mare. 

SONGS 

HANDSOME NELL 

Tune — "I am a man unmarried/' 
[This is Burns's first poem, composed, he said, when he 
was fifteen, on inspiration which he described in several places : 
in his "Epistle to Mrs. Scott" (see page 165), in his First 
Common Place Book, in his autobiographical letter to Dr. 
Moore, etc. 

First published in Johnson's Musical Museum in 1803.1 

0, once I lov'd a bonie lass. 

Ay, and I love her still ; 
And whilst that virtue warms my breast, 

Fll love my handsome Nell. 

As bonie lasses I hae seen. 

And monie full as braw;^ 
But for a modest, gracefu' mien 

The like I never saw. 

A bonie lass, I will confess, 

Is pleasant to the e'e;^ 
But without some better qualities 

She's no a lass for me. 

9n. Carlin claught. Witch clutched. 2. E'e. Eye. 
1. Braw. Fine. 



Jp 



188 SELECTED POEMS 

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, 

And, what is best of a^ 
Her reputation is complete, 

And fair without a flaw. 

She dresses ay sae clean and neat, 

Both decent and genteel ; 
And then there's something in her gait 

Gars^ ony dress look weel. 

A gaudy dress and gentle air 

May slightly touch the heart; 
But it's innocence and modesty 

That "polishes the dart. 

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 

^Tis this enchants my soul; 
For absolutely in my breast 

She reigns without control. 

MAEY MOEISON 

[On the theory that this song relates to an early love 
affair of Burns which culminated in his rejection by the 
young lady about 1781, it is usually dated in that year; but 
the identity of the heroine is not proved — nor does it really 
matter. She was not "Highland Mary," however. 

Sent to Thomson March 20, 1793, with a statement from 
Burns that it was "one of my juvenile works"; first printed 
in Currie's edition of 1800.] 

Mary, at thy window be ! 

It is the wishM, the trysted^ hour. 
Those smiles and glances let me see, 

That make the miser's treasure poor. 

How blithely wad I bide the stoure,^ 
A weary slave frae sun to sun. 

Could I the rich reward secure — 
The lovely Mary Morison. 

3. Gaxs. Makes. 2. Bide the stoure. Bear the stDig- 

1. Trysted, Agreed. gle. 



SELECTED POEMS 189 

Yestreen, when to the trembling string 

The dance gaecP thro^ the lighted ha', 
To thee my fancy took its wing ; 

I sat, but neither heard nor saw. 

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,* 
And yon the toast of a' the town, 

I sigh'd and said amang them a' : 
"Ye are na Mary Morison V^ 

Mary, canst thou wreck his peace 

Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? 
Or canst thou break that heart of his 

Whase only faut^ is loving thee? 

If love for love thou wilt na gie,^ 
At least be pity to me shown; 

A thought ungentle canna be 
The thought o' Mary Morison. 



MY NAXIE, 

Tune—^'Mj Nanie, 0." 

[One of the few songs printed in the early editions of 
Burns's poems; this and the next two were in the Edinburgh 
edition of 1787. This song is copied in Burns's First Commcyn 
Place Book under the date April, 1784, and is generally believed 
to liave been written about two years earlier. 

The proper name in the first line was originally Stinchar, 
and so appears in all the early editions; but in a letter to 
Thomson in 1792 Burns expressed a preference for Lugar as 
more euphonious. 

As in several cases, there is a dispute regarding the identity 
of the heroine — which again does not really matter.] 

Behind yon hills where Lugar* flows, 
^Mang moors an' mosses many, 0, 

The wintry sun the day has clos'd, 
And Fll awa to Xanie, 0. 

3. Gaed. Went. 5. Faut. Fault. 

4. Braw. Fine, handsome. (i. Gie. Give. 



190 SELECTED POEMS 

The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill ;^ 
The night's baith mirk^ and rainy, ; 

But I'll get my plaid^ an' out 111 steal. 
An' owre the hill to Nanie, 0. 

My Name's charming, sweet, an' young; 

Nae artf u' wiles to win ye, : 
May ill befa' the flattering tongue 

That wad beguile my Nanie, 0. 

Her face is fair^ her heart is true;. 

As spotless as she's bonie, ; 
The op'ning gowan,^ wat wi' dew, 

Nae purer is than Nanie, 0. 

A country lad is my degree, 

An' few there be that ken* me, ; 

But what care I how few they be? 
I'm welcome ay to Nanie, 0. 

My riches a's my penny-fee, 

x\n' I maun^ guide it cannie,^ 0; 

But warl's gear"^ ne'er troubles me, 
My thoughts are a', my Nanie, 0. 

Our auld guidman delights to view 
His sheep an' kye^ thrive bonie, ; 

But I'm as blythe that hauds^ his pleugh, 
An' has nae care but Nanie, 0. 

Come weel, come woe, I care na by;^® 
I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, 0; 

Nae ither care in life have I, 
But live, an' love my Nanie, 0. 

1. Shill. Shrill. 6. Cannie. Carefully. 

2. Baith mirk. Both dark. 7. Warl's gear. Worldly goods. 

3. Gowan. Daisy. 8. Kye. Cows. 

4. Ken. Know. 9, Hauds. Holds. 

5. Maun. Must. 10. Care na by. Care not. 



I 



SELECTED POEMS 191 

GEEEN GEOW THE EASHES^ 

A FRAGMENT 

[Entered in Bums's First Common Place Book under the 
date of August (probably 1784) ; first printed in the Edin- 
burgh edition, 1787. 

Alter a paragraph in the Common Place Book on two classea 
of young men, "the grave and the merry," Bums says this 
'fragment," "as it is the genuine language of my heart, will 
(11 able anybody to determine which of the classes I belong to."] 

Chor. — Green grow the rashes^ 0; 

Green grow the rashes, 0; 
The sweetest hours that e^er I spend, 
Are spent amang the lasses, 0. 

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', 

In ev'ry hour that passes, : 
What signifies the life o' man. 

An' 'twere na for the lasses, 0? 
Green grow, etc. 

The warly^ race may riches chase. 

An' riches still may fly them, ; 
An' tho' at last they catch them fast. 

Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 0. 
Green grow, etc. 
But gie^ me a cannie* hour at e'en. 

My arms about my dearie, 0, 
An' warly cares, an' warly men, 

May a' gae tapsalteerie,^ ! 

Green grow, etc. 
For you sae douce,^ ye sneer at this, 

Ye're nought but senseless asses, : 
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,* 

He dearly lov'd the lasses, 0. 

Green grow, etc. 

Go upside- 



1. Rashes. Rushes. 


5. Gae tapsalteerie. 


-* Warly. Worldly. 


down. 


Gie. Give. 


6. Douce. Grave. 


; Cannie. Quiot. 





192 SELECTED POEMS 

Anld Nature swears^ the lovely dears 
Her noblest work she classes, : 

Her prentice han^ she try^d on man, 
An^ then she made the lasses, 0. 
Green grow, etc. 



FAEEWELL SONG TO THE BANKS OP AYE 

Tt^ne— "Roslin Castle." 
[In Burns's autobiographic letter to Dr. Moore, dated 
August 2, 1787, he explains the occasion of this song as fol- 
lows: "I had taken the last farewell of my few friends; my 
chest was on the road to Greenock; I had composed the 
last song I should ever measure in Caledonia — The gloomy 
night is gathering fast — ^when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to 
a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by opening new 
prospects to my poetic ambition." The time was the early 
autumn of 1786. The poem appeared in the first Edinburgh 
edition.] 

The gloomy night is gathering fast, 
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast; 
Yon murky cloud is fonl with rain, 
I see it driving o^er the plain; 
The hunter now has left the moor. 
The scattered coveys meet secure; 
While here I wander, prest with care. 
Along the lonely banks of Ayr. 

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn. 
By early Winter^s ravage torn; 
Across her placid, azure sky. 
She sees the scowling tempest fly: 
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave; 
I think upon the stormy wave. 
Where many a danger I must dare, 
Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. 



SELECTED POEMS 193 

Tis not the surging billow's roar, 
'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore ; 
Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear. 
The wretched have no more to fear : 
But round my heart the ties are bound. 
That heart transpierced with many a wound ; 
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, 
To leave the bonie banks of Ayr. 

Farewell, old Collars* hills and dales, 
Her heathy moors and winding vales ; 
The scenes where wretched Fancy roves. 
Pursuing past unhappy loves ! 
Farewell, my friends ! farewell, my foes ! 
My peace with these, my love with those — 
The bursting tears my heart declare. 
Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr! 



THE NIGHT WAS STILL 

["Irvine's biairns" were the children of Dr. Lawrie, minis- 
ter at Loudoun, at whose home Burns first heard the spinet 
played during the autumn of 1786. The manuscript of this 
song was first given to one of the daughters of Dr. Lawrie. 
The poem was not published until 1840.] 

The night was still, and o^er the hill 

The moon shone on the castle wa'; 
The. mavis^ sang, while dew-drops hang 

Around her on 'the castle wa'; 
Sae merrily they danced the ring 

Frae e'enin' till the cock did craw ; 
And ay the o'erword^ o' the spring^ 

Was ^^Irvine's bairns* are bonie a'.'' 

1. Mavis. Thrush. 3. Spring. A lively t\in«^ (r so;- . 

IJ. O'erword. Refrain. 4. Bairns. Children. 



194 SELECTED POEMS 

McPHEESON'S FAEEWELL 

Twne— "McPherson's Rant." 
[Published in Johnson's Museum in 1788, and usually 
thought to have been a result of Burns's Highland tour of the 
preceding fall. 

The Poet's own note on this song is as follows: "Mc- 
Pherson, a daring robber in the beginning of this century, was 
condemned to be hanged at the assizes of Inverness. He is 
said, when under sentence of death, to have composed this 
tune, which he calls his own Lament, or Farewell." One 
stanza of an old poem on the theme strikingly resembles 
Burns's "chorus" and at the same time shows how he im- 
proved the old songs which he worked over. 
"Then wantonly and rantingly 

I am resolved to die; 
And with undaunted courage, I 
Shall mount this fatal tree."] 

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong, 

The wretches destinie ! 
McPherson's time will not be long 

On yonder gallows-tree. i^. 

Chorus. — Sae rantingly/ sae wantonly, 
Sae danntingly gaed^ he; 
He play'd a spring,^ and danc'd it round, 
Below the gallows-tree. 

0, what is death but parting breath ? 

On many a bloody plain 
I've dar'd his face, and in this place 

I scorn him yet again! 

Sae rantingly, etc. 

Untie these bands from off my hands. 

And bring to me my sword. 
And there's no a man in all Scotland, 

But I'll brave him at a word. 
Sae rantingly, etc. 

1. Sae rantin§ly. So jovially. 3. Spring. Lively tone. 

2. Dauntingly gaeJ. Daunfclessly 
went. 



SELECTED POEMS 195 



I\e liv'd a life of sturt^ and strife; 

I die by treacherie ; 
It burns my heart I must depart. 

And not avenged be. 

Sae rantingly;> etc. 

Now farewell^ light, thou sunshine bright. 

And all beneath the sky ! 
May coward shame distain his name, 

The wretch that dare not die ! 
Sae rantinglv;, etc. 



OF A^ THE AIETS^ THE WIND CAN BLAW 

Tune — "Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey." 
[Said Burns of this song; "I composed [it] out of compli- 
ment to Mrs. Burns. N.B, It was during the honeymoon." 
This means during the summer of 1788, probably soon after 
the poet moved to Ellisland and while Mrs. Burns was still 
in Ayrshire. First printed in Johnson's Museum in 1790.] 

Of a^ the airts^ the wind can blaw 

I dearly like the west, 
For there the bonie lassie lives. 

The lassie I lo^e best. 
There wild-woods grow,* and rivers row,^ 

And monie a hill between, 
But day and night my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy flowers, 

I see her sweet and fair. 
I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air. 

4. Sturt. Trouble. 1. Airts. Diroctiana. 

2. Row. Koll. 



196 SELECTED POEMS 

There's not a bonie flower that springs 
By fountain, shaw/ or green ; 

There's not a bonie bird that sings. 
But minds me o' my Jean. 



0/WEKE I ON PAKNASSUS HILL 

Tune — "My love is lost to me." 
[This, like the preceding, was written at Ellisland in 1788 

ill compliment to Mrs. Burns, and was first published in 

Johnson's Museum in 1790. 

Corsincon (stanza i) is a hill visible from Burns's home at 

Ellisland on the river Nith.l 



0, were I on Parnassus* hill. 
Or had o^ Helicon* my fill, 
That I might catch poetic skill 

To sing how dear I love thee ! 
But Kith maun^ be my Muse's well, 
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel', 
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell,^ 

And write how dear 1 love thee. 



Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay ! 
For a' the lee-lang^ simmer's day 
1 couldna sing, I couldna say 

How much, how dear, I love thee. 
I see thee dancing o'er the green, 
Thy waist sae jimp,^ thy limbs sae clean. 
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een^ — 

By Heaven and Earth I love thee ! 

3. Shaw. Wood. 3. Lee-lang. Live-long. 

1. Maun. Must. 4. Jimp. Slender. 

2. Glowr and spell. Rtare and scan 5. Een. Eyes, 
intently 



SELECTED POEMS 197 

By night, by da}';, a-field, at liame. 
The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame, 
And ay I muse and sing thy name — 

I only live to love thee. 
Tho' I were doom'd to wander on, 
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun. 
Till my last weary sand was run, 

Till then — and then — I'd love thee ! 



AULD LANG SYNE^ 

[In December, 1788, Burns wrote to Mrs. Dunlop: "Is 
not the Scotch phrase "Auld Lang Syne" exceedingly expres- 
sive? There is an old song and tune which has often thrilled 

through my soul I shall give you the verses on the other 

sheet." Nearly five years later, in September, 1793, he sent 
to Thomson the poem as we have it, with the following re- 
marks: "The air is but mediocre; but the following song, the 
old song of the olden times, and which has never been in 
print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an 
old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air." In spite 
of these statements, most of the poem is generally believed 
to be by Burns; at any rate it is a great improvement on 
some earlier poems on the same theme, one of them credited 
to Allan Ramsay. First published in Johnson's Museum in 
1796.] 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot. 

And never brought to mind ? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot. 

And days o' lang syne?* 

Chorus. — For auld lang syne, my jo,^ 
For auld lang syne, 
We'll tak a cnp o' kindness yet. 
For auld lang syne. 

1. Auld lang syne. A long time ago. 2. Jo. Sweetheart. 



198 



SELECTED POEMS 



And eurely ye^ll be your pint stowp^ 

And surely I'll be mine^ 
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet. 

For auld lang syne. 
For auld, etc. 

We twa hae^ run about the braes, ^ 

And pou'd the gowans® fine ; 
But weVe wandered mony a weary fit/ 

Sin' auld lang syne. 
For auld, etc. 

We twa hae paidl'd® i' the burn^ 
Frae morning sun till dine;^^ 

But seas between us braid^^ hae roar'd 
Sin' auld lang syne. 
For auld, etc. 

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere/^ 

And gie's^^ a hand o' thine. 
And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught^* 

For auld lang syne. 
For auld, etc. 



:>. Be yottr pint stowp. Pay for 

3^our nint measure. 

4. Twanae. Two have. 

5. Braes. Hillsides. 

6. Pou'd the gowans* Pulled the 
daisies. 

7. Fit. Foot. 

8. PaidPd. Paddled. 



9. Bum. Brook. 

10. Dine. Dinner-time. 

11. Braid. Broad. 

12. Fiere. Comrade. 

13. Gie's. Give us. 

14. Gude-wilUe waught. Draught of 
good will. 



SELECTED POEMS 199 

MY BONIE MAEY 

[Sent to Mrs. Dunlop in December, 1788, as "two other old 
stanzas that please me mightily"; but elsewhere Burns said 
"the first half stanza .... is old; the rest is mine." Published 
in Johnson's Museum, 1700. 

The Berwick-law (Stanza i) was a height in Haddington- 
shire overlooking the Firth of Forth.] 



Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine. 

And fill it in a silver tassie,^ 
That I may drink before I go 

A service to my bonie lassie ! 
The boat rocks at the pier o^ Leith, 

Fu' loud the wind blaws f rae^ the Ferrj, 
The ship rides by the Berwick-law, 

And I mann^ leave my bonie Mary. 

The trumpets sound, the banners fly. 

The glittering spears are ranked ready. 
The shouts o^ war are heard afar. 

The battle closes deep and bloody; 
It's not the roar o^ sea or shore 

Wad mak me langer wish to tarry. 
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar — 

Ifs leaving thee, my bonie Mary I 



1. Tassie. Goblet. 

2. Frae. From. 

3. Matui. Must. 



200 SELECTED POEMS 

SWEET AFTON 

[Sent to Mrs. Dunlop in February, 1789, with the state- 
ment that the song was written for Johnson's Musical Museum 
in compliment to the *'small river Afton that flows into 
Nith" — the river beside which Burns's home at Ellisland was 
situated. Thus Gilbert Burns's notion that the poem re- 
ferred to "Highland Mary" seems probably a mistake. Printed 
in Johnson's Museum in 1792.] 

f iOw gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes !^ 
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ! 
My Mary's asleep by thy mnrnmring stream; 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! 

lliou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, 
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear; 
J charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills. 
Far marked with the courses of clear, winding rills ! 
There daily I wander, as noon rises high, 
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 

How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below, 
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow ; 
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea, 
The sweet-scented birk^ shades my Mary and nie. 

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides I 
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 
As, gathering sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave ! 

Flow gently, sweet ilf ton, among thy green braes ! 
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ! 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream; 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! 

1. Braes. Hillsides. ' 2. Birk. Birch. 



SELECTED POEMS 201 

TO MAEY IN HEAVEN 

[Sent to Mrs. Dunlop in November, 1789, as **made the 
other day," and believed by the supporters of the "Highland 
Mary cult" to have been written on the third anniversary ol 
Mary Campbell's death, October 20, 1789. Published in 
Johnson's Museum in 1790. See the Introduction, page 15.] 



Thou lingering star with lessening ray, 

That lov^st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou nsher'st in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
Mary, dear departed shade! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
See^st thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? 



That sacred hour can I forget, 

Can I forget the hallow'd grove, 
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met 

To live one day of parting love ! 
Eternity can not efface 

Those records dear of transports past, 
Thy image at our last embrace — 

Ah! little thought we ^twas our last! 



Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods thickening green : 
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar 

Twined amorous round the raptur'd scene ; 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang love on every spray. 
Till too, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaimed the speed of winged day. 



202 SELECTED POEMS 

Still o^er these scenes my mem'ry wakes. 

And fondly broods with miser care. 
Time but th' impression stronger makes. 

As streams their channels deeper wear. 
My Mary, dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? 
See^st thou thy lover lowly laid? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast : 



JOHN AXDEESOX, MY JO 

{Pul)lislied in Jolinson's Museum in 1790; usually thought 
to be a composition of 1789. 

Notice that; an elderly woman is assumed to be the 



speaker.] 



John Anderson my jo/ John^ 

When we were first acquent/ 
Your locks were like the raven. 

Your bonie brow was brent f 
But now your brow is held,* John, 

Your locks are like the snaw, 
But blessings on your frosty pow/'^ 

John Anderson my jo ! 

John Anderson my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither : 
And inonie a cantie^^ day, John, 

WeVe had wi' ane anither : 
Now we maun^ totter down, John, 

And hand in hand we'll go, 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson my jo I 



1. Jo. Sweetheart. 4. BeH. B-ld. 

2. Acqnent. Acquainted. 5. P'^'^. He~d. 

3. Brent. Straight (not sloping 6. Tantie. Livelj-. 
from baldness^ 7. Maun. Must. 



SELECTED POEMS 203 

TAil GLEN 

[Printed in Johnson's Museum, 1790, after previous appt-ai- 
ances in periodicals in Xovember and December. 1789. Burns's 
sister Mrs. Begg maintained that this was an old song whielu 
he had merely retouched, but no such old song has been found, 
and Burns's friend Biddell said this song was by Burns. 

The speaker here is, of course, a young girl.] 

My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie ;^ 
Some counsel unto me come len'.^ 

To anger them a' is a pity. 

Bu^ what will I do wi' Tam Glen? 

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw^ fellow, 
In poortith^ I might mak a fen'.^ 

What care I in riches to wallow, 
If I mauna^' marry Tam Glen? 

There's Lowrie the Laird o" Dumeller — 
''Guid day to you," — brute ! he comes ben ;^ 

He brags and he blaws o' his siller.^ 
But when will he dance like Tam Glen ? 

My minnie® does constantly deave^^ me, 
And bids me beware o' young men ; 

They flatter, she says, to deceive me, 
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen? 

My daddie says, gin^^ Fll forsake liim. 
He'd gie me guid hunder marks ten ; 

But if it's ordain'd I maun take him, 
0, wha will I get but Tam Glen? 



1. Tittie. Sister. 7. Ben. In (to the parlor). 

2. Len'. Lend. 8. Siller. Money (silver). 
;^. Sic a hraw. Such a fine. 9. Minnie. Mother. 

i. Poortith. Povcrtj'. 10. Deave. Deafen. 

Fen'. Shift. 11. Gin. If. 
Mauna. Must not. 



204 SELECTED POEMS 

Yestreen^^ at the valentines' dealing, 
My heart to my mon gied a sten/^ 

For thrice I drew ane without failing, 
And thrice it was written, ^'Tam Glen/' 

The last Halloween I was wankin^'* 
My dronkit sark^^ sleeve, as ye ken; 

His likeness came up the house staukin,^^ 
And the very grey breeks^^ o' Tam Glen ! 

Come, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry ! 

I'll gie^^ ye my bonie black hen, 
Gif^® ye will advise me to marry 

The lad I lo'e^^ dearly, Tam Glen. 

WILLIE BEEWD A PECK 0' MAUT 
[The meeting that suggested this rollicking song took 
place in the autumn of 1789. Burns made the following note 
on it: "The air is Masterton's [the "Allan" of the song], 
the song mine. The occasion of it was this: Mr. Wm. Nicol, 
of the High School, Edinburgh^ during the autumn vacation 
being at Sloffat, honest Allan (who was at that time on a 
visit to Dalswinton) and I went to pay Nicol a visit. We 
had such a joyous time that Mr. Masterton and I agreed, 
each in our own way, that we should celebrate the business." 
Published in Johnson's Museum, 1790.] 

0, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut/ 

And Eob and Allan cam to see ; 
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang ^ night, 

Ye wadna found in Christendie.^ 

Chorus. — We are na fon,^ we're nae that fou, 
But just a drappie^ in our e'e f 
The cock may craw/ the day may daw/ 
And ay we'll taste the barley bree.^ 

12. Yestreen. Last night. 1. Maut. Malt. 

13. Gied a sten. Gave a leap. 2. Lee-lang. Live-long. 

14. Waukin. Watching. 3. Christendie. Christendom. 

15. Droukitsark. Drenched shirt. 4. Fou. Full, drunk. 

16. Staukin. Stalking. 5. Drappie. Droplet. 

17. Breeks. Breeches. 6. E'e. Eye. 

18. Gie. Give. 7. Craw. Crow. 

19. Gif. If. 8. Daw. Dawn. 

20. Lo'e. Love. 9. Bree. Brew. 



SELECTED POEMS 20o 

Here are we met, three merry boys, 

Three merry boys 1 trow are we ; 
And monie a night we'xe merry been. 

And monie mae^^ we hope to be ! 
We are na fou, etc. 

It is the moon, I ken^^ her horn. 
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie ;^^ 

She shines sae bright to wyle^^ us hame, 
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee !^* 
We are na fou, etc. 

Wha first shall rise to gang^^ awa, 

A cuckold, coward loun^^ is he ! 
Wha first beside his chair shall fa'. 

He is the king amang us three ! 
We are na fou, etc. 



WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T 

[Printed in Johnson's Museum, 1790. The refrain is from 
an old song and was used by Burns also in "The Jolly Beggars" 
, (see page 103).] 

First when Maggie was my care, 
Heav'n, I thought, was in her air ; 
Now we're married, spier nae mair/ 

But whistle o'er the lave^ o't ! 
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, 
Sweet and harmless as a child; 
Wiser men than me's beguil'd — 

Whistle o'er the lave o't! 



f 



10. Mae. More. 15. Gang. Go. 

11. Ken. Know. 16. Loun. Rascal Goon). 

12. Lift sae hie. Sky so high. 1. Spier nae mair. Ask no mort\ 

13. Wyle. Entice. 2. Lave. Rest. 

14. Wee. Bit. 



206 , SELECTED POEMS 

How we live, my Meg and me, 
How we love, and how we gree/ 
I care na by* how few may see — 

\ATiistle o^er the lave o^t! 
Wha I wish were maggots' meat, 
Dish'd Tip in her winding-sheet, 
I could write — ^but Meg maun^ see't- 

Whistle o^er the lave o^t! 



MY HEAET'S IX THE HIGHLANDS 

Tune — "Failte na Miosg." 
[Burns said, "The first half stanza [of the chorus] of this 
song is old; the rest is mine." 

Printed in Johnson's Museum, 1790.] 

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the Xorth, 
The birthplace of valor, the country of worth ; 
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, 
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. 

Chorus, — My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not 

here. 
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the 

deer, 
A-chasing the wild deer and following the 

roe — 
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. 

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow. 
Farewell to the straths^ and green valleys below. 
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods, 
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods ! 
My heart's in the Highlands, etc. 

3. Gree. Agree. 5. Maun. Must. 

4. Care na by. Care nothiner. 1. Straths River bottoms. 



k 



SELECTED POEMS 207 

THE BANKS 0' DOON 

SECOND VERSION 

[There are three versions of this poem, varying con- 
siderably. The one most commonly known — "Ye banks and 
braes o' bonie Doon" — appeared in Johnson's Museum in 1792. 
It consists of two stanzas of eight lines each. In March, 
1791, Burns sent to his friend Alexander Cunningham a set 
of words on the same theme, to a tune requiring "three 
stanzas of four lines each," or a long stanza of twelve lines. 
In this version, usually regarded as the first on the theme, 
there are two such twelve-line stanzas. The simpler ver- 
sion here printed was sent in a letter to John Ballantyne of 
Ayr, probably also of March, 1791, though by some critic^ 
dated four years earlier. 

It should be noted that the poem is assumed to be suii;4 
by a woman who has been deserted by a "fause luver."] 

Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon, 
How can ye blume sae fair? 

How can ye chanty ye little birds, 
And I sae fu' o' care? 

Thou'll break my heart, thon bonie bird, 
That sings upon the bough; 

Thou minds^ me o^ the happy days 
When my fanse luve was true. 

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, 
That sings beside thy mate; 

For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
And wist na^ o' my fate. 

Aft hae I rovM by bonie Doon, 

To see the woodbine twine ; 
And ilka^ bird sang o' its luve, 

And sae did I o^ mine. 

Wi^ lightsome heart I pu'd* a rose, 

Frae off its thorny tree; 
And my f ause luver staw' my rose. 

But left the thorn wi' me. 

1. Minds. Remindest. 4. Pn'd. Pulled. 

2. Wist na. Knew not. 5. Staw. Rtolo. 
.S. Ilka. Every. 



i 



208 SELECTED POEMS 

AE FOND KISS, AND THEN WE SEVEE ' 
Tune—'^'RoTj Ball's Port." 

[Sent to "Clarinda" (Mrs. McLehose) in December, 1791, 
as one of "some songs I have just been composing to different 
tunes for the Collection of Songs, of which you have three 
volumes, and of which you shall have the fourth." "Nancy" 
is "Clarinda." The "collection of songs" w^as Johnson's 
Museum, in which this appeared in 1792. 

The last four lines of the second stanza were said by 
Sir Walter Scott to contain "the essence of a thousand love 
tales."] 

. Ae^ fond kiss, and then we sever! 
Ae farewell^ and then for ever! 
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him^ 
While the star of hope she leaves him? 
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me; 
Dark despair aronnd benights me. 

1^11 ne'er blame my partial fancy — 
Naething could resist my Nancy! 
But to see her was to love her. 
Love but her, and love for ever. 
Had we never lov'd sae kindty, 
Had we never loved sae blindly. 
Never met — or never parted — 
We had ne'er been broken-hearted. 

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest ! 
Pare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest ! 
Thine be ilka^ joy and treasure, 
Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! 
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! 
Ae farewell, alas, for ever! 
Deep in heart- wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 

1. Ae, One. 2. Ilka. Every. 






SELECTED POEMS 201) 

BESSY AXD HEE SPINXIX-WHEEL 
[A song of 1792, contributed to Johnson's Museum.] 

0, leeze me on^ my spinnin-wheel. 
And leeze me on my rock^ and reel, 
Frae tap to tae^ that deeds'* me bien,^ 
And haps me fieP and warm at e'en ! 
Ill set me down and sing and spin, 
A\liile laigh*^ descends the simmer sun. 
Blest wi^ content, and milk and meal — 
0, leeze me on my spinnin- wheel ! 

On ilka^ hand the burnies^ trot, 
And m.eet below my theekit cot.^° 
■ The scented birk^^ and hawthorn white 
Across the pool their arms unite. 
Alike to screen the birdie's nest 
And little fishes^ caller^^ rest. 
The sun blinks kindly in the bielV^ 
AVhere bl3rthe I turn my spinnin- wheel. 

On lofty aiks^* the cushats^^ wail, 
And Echo cons the doolfu' tale. 
The lintwhites^® in the hazel braes. 
Delighted, rival ither's lays; 
The craik^'' amang the claver^® hay, 
The paitrick^^ whirrin o'er the ley,^^ 
The swallow jinkin^^ round my shiel,^'^ 
Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel. 

1 . Leeze me on. Dear to me is. 12. Caller. Cool. 

2. Rock. Distaff. 13. Biel'. Sheltered spot . 
.'1 Frae tap to tae. From top to toe. 14. Aiks. Oaks. 

4. Cleeds. Clothes. 15. Cushats. Doves. 

5. Bien. Comfortably. 16. Lintwhites. Linnets. 

fi. Haps me fiel. Wraps nic com- 17. Craik. Corncrake (a kitul of 
fortably. bird). 

7. Laigh. Low. . 18. Claver. Clover. 

8. Ilka. Every. 19. Paitrick. Partridge. 
0. Bumies. Brooklets. 20. Ley. Meadow. 

10. Theekit cot. Thatched cottage. 21. Jinkin. DodKinp, 

11. Birk. Birch. 22. Shiel. Shed, 



210 SELECTED POEMS 

Wi^ sma' to sell and less to buy, 
Aboon^^ distress, below envy, 
0, wha wad leave this humble state 
For a' the pride of a^ the great? 
Amid their flaring, idle toys. 
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome^^ joys. 
Can they the peace and pleasure feel 
Of Bessy at Her spinnin-wheel ? 



WHEN SHE CAM BEN SHE BOBBED 

[Printed in Johnson's Museum, 1792. The first two stanzas 
vary only slightly from an old song.] 

0, when she cam ben,^ she bobbed fu^ law !^ 
O, when she cam ben, she bobbed fu' law ! 
And when she cam ben, she kissed Cockpen, 
And syne^ she deny^d she did it at a' ! 

And was na Cockpen right saucy witha' ? 
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha^, 
In leaving the dochter o^ a lord, 
And kissin a collier lassie an a' ? 

0, never look down, my lassie, at a^ ! 
O, never look down, my lassie, at a' ! 
Tliy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete, 
As the finest dame in castle or ha'. 

Tho' thou hast nae silk, and holland^ sae sma', 
Tho' thou hast nae silk, and hoUand sae sma", 
Thy coat and thy sark^ are thy ain handywark, 
And Lady Jean was never sae braw.^ 



23. 


Aboon. Above. 


3. Syne. Then. 






24. 


Dinsome. Noisy. 


4. Holland. A kind of 
cotton cloth. 


linen 


or 


1. 


Ben. Into the parlor. 


o. Sark. Shirt. 






2. 


Law, Low. 


0. Braw. Handsome. 







n 



SELECTED POEMS 211 

THE DEIL^S AWA WI^ THE EXCISEMAX 

[In Cromek's Reliques it was declared that this song was 
written for "a festive meeting of all the Excise officers in 
Scotland;" but Lockhart believed this to be an error and 
presented an account of the writing of the poem which he 
obtained from the "private journal of one of the excisemen" 
concerned with Burns in the capture of a brig engaged in 
contraband traffic in Sol way Firth. The gist of this account 
is that Burns composed the song in impatience at the slowness 
of some brother officers who had been dispatched for aid, while 
Burns with a few men was left to watch the brig. Published 
in Johnson's Museum, 1792.] 

The Deil cam fiddlin thro' the town, 

x\nd danc'd awa wi' iV Exciseman, 
And ilka^ wife cries, ^^Auld Mahoun,^ 

I wish you luck o' the prize, manT' 

Ohorus. — The DeiFs awa, the DeiFs awa. 

The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman ! 
He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa. 
He's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman. 



''We'll mak our maut,^ and we'll brew our drink, 
We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man, 

And monie braw* thanks to the meikle® black Deil, 
That danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman." 
The Deil's awa, etc. 

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, 
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man. 

But tlie ae^ best dance e'er cam to the land 
Was "The Deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman." 
The Deil's awa, etc. 



1. Uka. Every. 4. Fraw. Fino. 

2. Mahoun. IVIahompt. 5. Meikle. Big. 

3. Maut. Malt. 6. Ae. One. 



212 SELECTED POEMS ^ 

SAW YE BONIE LESLEY 

[Sent to Mrs. Dunlop as a new composition August 22, 
1792; published first in Part II of Thomson's Select Collec- 
tion of Scottish Airs, 1798. 

"Bonie Lesley" was one of the two daughters of a gentle- 
man of Ayrshire who, when on a trip to England with these 
daughters, stopped at Dumfries to call upon Burns. On their 
departure the poet mounted his horse "and accompanied them 
fourteen or fifteen miles, and dined and spent the day with 
them." The song illustrates how, when the fancy struck him, 
he could immortalize a chance acquaintance.] 

0, saw ye bonie Lesley, 

As she gaed^ o'er the Border? 

She's gane,^ like Alexander, 
To spread her conquests farther. 

To see her is to love her. 

And love but her for ever; 
For Nature made her what she is. 

And never made anither ! 

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley — 
Thy subjects, we before thee; 

Thou art divine, fair Lesley — 
The hearts o' men adore thee. 

The Deil he could na skaith^ tliee. 
Or aught that wad belang thee ; 

He'd look into thy bonie face, 

And say, "I canna wrang thee!^' 

The Powers aboon* will tent^ thee, 

Misfortune sha'na steer^ thee; 
Thou'rt like themsel' sae lovely, 

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 

1. Gaed. Went. 4. Aboon. Above. 

2. Gane. Gone. 5. Tent. Guard 

3. Skaith. Hurt. 6. Steer. Molest.*^ 



SELJ^CTED POEMS 213 



Eeturn again, fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledonie ! 
That we may brag we hae a lass. 

There's nane again sae bonie. 



HIGHLAND MARY 

[Sent to Thomson November 14, 1792; not published till 
Thomson"'s Part III appeared in 1799. Burns's remarks in 
his letter to Thomson are as follows: **The foregoing song 
pleases myself; I think it is in my happiest manner; you 
will see at first glance that it suits the air. The subject 
of the song is one of the most interesting passages of my 
youthful days."] 

Ye banks and braes^ and streams around 

The castle of Montgomery, 
Green be your wood's, and fair your flowers, 

Your waters never drumlie !^ 
There Simmer first unfald her robes, 

And there the langest tarry ; 
For there I took the last f areweel 

0' my sweet Highland Mary. 

HoAV sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,^ 

How rich the hawthorn's blossom. 
As underneath their fragrant shade, 

I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 
The golden hours on angel wings 

Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
For dear to me as light and life 

AYas my sweet Highland Mary. 



1. Braes. Slopog. 

2. Drnmlie. Muddy. 

3. Birk. Birch. 



214 SELECTED POEMS 

Wi^ monie a vow and lock'd embrace 

Our parting was f u' tender ; 
And^ pledging aft to meet again. 

We tore onrsels asunder. 
But 0, fell Death's untimely frost. 

That nipt my flower sae early ! 
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay. 

That wraps my Highland Mary ! 

0, pale, pale now, those rosy lips 

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ; 
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance 

That dwalt on me sae kindly; 
And mouldering now in silent dust, 

That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 
But still within my bosom's core 

Shall live my Highland Mary. 



DUNCAN GEAY 

[Sent to Thomson December 4, 1792; published by him 
in 1798. A different poem with the same title had appeare^J 
in Johnson's Museum in 1788.] 

Duncan Gray cam here to woo — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o^t ! 
On blythe Yule-night when we were fou^ — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Maggie coost^ her head fu^ high, 
Look'd asklent^ and unco skeigh/ 
^ Gart^ poor Duncan stand abeigh^ — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o^t ! 

1. Fou. Full (drunk). 4. Unco skeigh. Very skittish. 

2. Coost. Cast. 5. Gart. Made. 

3. Asklent. Askanre. 6. Abeigh. Aloof. 



SELECTED POEMS 215 

Duncan fleech'd^ and Duncan pray'd — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig^ — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't! 
Duncan sighed baith out and in, 
Grat^ his een^^ baith bleer't'^ an' blin% 
Spak o' lowpin^2 ^?gj, ^ linn^^ — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 

Time and Chance are but a tide — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Slighted love is sair to bide^* — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
''Shall I, like a fool/' quoth he, 
'Tor a haughty hizzie^^ die ? * 

She may gae to — France for me V^ 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 

How it comes, let doctors tell — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Meg grew sit^k, as he grew hale— 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Something in her bosom wrings. 
For relief a sigh she brings, 
And ! her een they spak sic things I 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 

Duncan was a lad o' grace — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
Maggie's was a piteous case — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't! 
Duncan could na be her death. 
Swelling pity smoor'd^^ his wrath ; 
Now they're crouse and canty^^ baith^ — 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 

7. FleechM. Wheedled. 13. Linn. Waterfall. 

8. Ailsa Craig. A mountainoua 14. Sair to bide. Hard to endure. 
island off Ayrshire. 15. Hizzie, Huasy. 

9. Grat. Wept. 16. Smoor'd. Smothered. 

10. Een. Eyes. 17. Crouse and canty. Joyful and 

11. Bleer't. Bleared. luippy. 

12. Lowpin. Leaping. 



2ic SELECTED POEMS 

WANDEEING WILLIE 

[Published by Thomson in his Part I, 1793. In Johnson's 
Museum, Vol. I, 1787, had appeared a song of the same 
title and in parts very similar. There are two versions by 
Burns, of which the one printed is his revision.] 

Here awa^ there awa, wandering Willie, 

Here awa, there awa, haud^ awa hame ; 
Come to my bosom, my ae^ only dearie. 

And tell me thon bring^st me my Willie the same. 
Loud tho' the winter blew canld at our parting ; 

^Twas na the blast brought the tear in my e'e ; 
Welcome now Simmer, and welcome my Willie, 

The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me ! 

Eest, ye wild storms, in the cave o^ your slumbers- 
How your wild howling a lover alarms! 
. AVauken, ye breezes; row^ gently, ye billows. 

And waft my dear laddie ance mair* to my arms. 

But 0, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, 
Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main ! 

May I never see it, may I never trow it. 

But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain !^ 

1. Haud. Hold. 4. Ance mair. Once more. 

2. Ae. One. 5. Ain. Own. 

3. Row. RolL 



SELECTED POEMS 217 

BRAW LADS 0' GALLA WATER 

[A working over of an old song, sent to Thomson about 
the same time as the revised version of ^'Wandering Willie.'* 
Published by Ihomson in 1793.] 

Braw/ braw lads on Yarrow braes/ 

They rove amang the blooming heather ; 

But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws^ 
Can match the lads o' Galla Water. 



But there is ane, a secret ane^ 
Aboon* them a^ I lo^e^ him better; 

And 1^11 be his, and he'll be mine. 
The bonie lad o' Galla Water. 

Altho' his daddie was nae laird. 
And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher/ 

Yet, rich in kindest, truest love, 

We'll tent^ our flocks by Galla Water. . 

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth, 

That coft^ contentment, peace, and pleasure : 

The bands and bliss o' mutual love, 
0, that's the chief est warld's treasure. 



1. Braw. Fine. 6. Nae meikle tocher. Not much 

2. Braes. Hillsides. dower. 

>5. Shaws. Woods. 7. Tent Tend, watch. 

\. Aboon. Above. 8. Coft. Bought. 
■>. Lo'e. Love. 



1 



218 SELECTED POEMS 

WHISTLE AW I^LL COME TO YE, MY LAD 

[A short version, "written for this work by Robert Burns 
appeared in Johnson's Museum in 1788. The complete song 
of the text was sent to Thomson in August, 1793, printed 
by him in 1799. The chorus is old. In August, 1795, Burns 
suggested to Thomson a change of the fourth line of t-ie 
chorus to — <. 

Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad. 
This was to avoid what he considered too many repetitions 
of th3 refrain. "Jeanie" here means Jean Lorimer, th« 
heroine of several of his latest songs. See page 226.] 

Chorus, — 0, whistle an' I'll came to ye, my lad ! 
0, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad ! 
Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae^ mad, 
0, whistle an' I'll came to ye, my lad ! 

But warily tent^ when ye come to court me, 
And come nae unless the back-yett^ be a-jee;* 
Syne^ np the back-style, and let naebody see. 
And come as ye were na comin to me, 
'And come as ye were na comin to me. 
0, whistle an' I'll come, etc. 

At kirk,^ or at market, whene'er ye meet me, 
Gang^ by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie f 
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,® 
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me. 
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me, 
0, whistle an' I'll come, etc. 

Ay -VOW and protest that ye care na for me, 
And whyles^^ ye may lightly^^ my beauty a wee ; 
But court na anither, tho' jokin ye be. 
For fear that she wyle^^ your fancy frae me, 
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me. 
0, whistle an' I'll come, etc. 

1. Gae. Go. 7. Gang. Go. 

2. Tent Take heed. 8. Flie. Fly. 

3. Yett. Gate. 9. E'e. Eye. 

4. A-jee. Ajar. 10, Whyles. Sometimes. 

5. Syne. Then. 11. Lightly. Disparago. 

6. Silk. Church. 12. Wyle. Beguile. 



1 



SELECTED POEMS 219 

SCOTS, WHA HAE 

[Sent to Thomson in September, 1793, with some remarks 
about the old tune, Hey, Tuttie Taitie, for which Burns in- 
tended the words. "There is a tradition," he says, ''that it 
[this old tune] was Kobert Bruce's march at the battle of 
Bannockburn. This thought, in my yesternight's evening walk, 
roused me to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and 
independence, which I threw into a kind of Scots ode, fitted to 
the air, that one might suppose to be the gallant royal 
Soot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful morn- 
^ iiig." This statement by Burns is inconsistent with the story 
of the composition of the poem which Carlyle mentions (page 
260). 

Thomson considered the tune Burns had in mind inferior, 
and urged the use of another tune which required two extra 
syllables in the last line of each stanza. Burns consented. 
and so when Thomson first printed the song (in 1799) it 
was much injured in effectiveness by the redundant syllables. 
In the meantime the poem as Burns first wrote it had become 
popular after appearing in a newspaper in May, 1794, and 
in a later volume of his work (1802) Thomson reprinted it 
Avith the tune Burns meant to use.] 

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed 
Or to victorie! 

Now^s the day, and noVs the hour ; 
See the front o' battle lour; 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Chains and slaverie ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 

Let him turn and flee ! 

Wha for Scotland's King and Law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand or freeman fa\ 
Let him follow m(» I 



220 SELECTED POEMS 

By Oppression's woes and pains, 
By your sons in servile chains, 
We will drain our dearest veins 

But they shall be free ! 

Lay the proud usurpers low! 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Li^erty^s in every blow ! 

Let us do or die ! 



% 



A EED, EED EOSE 



[First published by Johnson in 1796, but generally placed 
with the songs composed in 1794. 

Nearly all the ideas so beautifully put together here have 
been found in old songs.] 

My luve is like a red, red rose, 
That's newly sprung in June ; 

My luve is like the melodie, 
That's sweetly play'd in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonie lass. 

So deep in luve am I; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear. 

Till a' the seas gang^ dry. 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear. 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun ! 

And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee weel, my only luve. 
And fare thee weel a while ! 

And I will come again, my luve, 
Tho' it were ten thousand mile ! 

1. Gang. Go. 



SELECTED POEMS 221 

MY NAjSTIE'S AWA 

Tune — "There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame." 

[Sent to Thomson in December, 1794; published by him in 
1799. "Nanie" is "Clarinda" — ^jVirs. McLeiiose.] 

Xow in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays. 
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes/ 
While birds warble welcomes in ilka^ green shaw/ 
But to me it's delightless — ^my Nanie's awa. 

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
And violets bathe in the weet* o^ the morn ; 
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw. 
They mind me o^' Nanie — and Nanie's awa. 

Thou lav'rock^ that springs frae the dews of the lawn, 
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn. 
And thou mellow mavis^ that hails the night-fa', 
Give over for pity — my Kanie's awa. 

( .^ome Autumn, sae^ pensive in yellow and grey, 
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay ! 
Tlie dark, dreary Winter and wild-driving snaw 
Mime can delight me — now Nanie^s awa. 

1. Praes. Hillsides. 4. Weet. Wet. 

2. Ilka. Every. 5. Laverock. I.nrk. 

3. Shaw. Wood. 6. Mavis. Thrush. 



222 SELECTED POEMS 



THE LOVELY LASS 0" IXVERXESS 



87, I 



[Published in Johnson's Museum in 1796, The date 
composition is uncertain: some believe it to have been 1787, 
because in September of that year Burns visited the scene 
of the battle of Culloden; others make it 1794. 

In Palgrave's Golden Treasury this song is given under 
the title, "Lament for Culloden." '-Drumossie moor" is 
merely another name for "Cullod'^n lea," where the Highlanders \ 
under the Stuart Pretender were decisively defeated in 1746.] 

The lovely lass of Inverness, 
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; 
For e^en to morn she cries "Alas !" 
And ay the sant tear blin's her e'e.^ 

"Drumossie moor, Drumossie day — 

A waef u^ day it was to me ! 
For there I lost my father dear. 

My father dear and brethren three. 

*^^Their winding-sheet the blnidy clay, 
Their graves are growin green to see, 

And by them lies the dearest lad 
That ever blest a woman^s e'e. 

"Now wae to thee, thon cruel lord, 

A blnidy man I trow thou be ; 
For monie a heart thon hast made sair,^ 

That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee V^ 

1. Blin's her e'e. Blinds her eye. 
\ 2. Sair. Sore. 



SELECTED POEMS 223 

CHAELIE, HE'S MY DAELING 

[Published by Johnson in 1796; placed here because of 
the historical relation to the preceding poem. "Charlie" was the 
youTig Stuart prince, idol of many Highlanders, who was 
defeated at Culloden.j 

'Twas on a Monday morning, 

Eight early in the year. 
That Charlie came to our town — 

The young Chevalier. 

Chorus, — An' Charlie, he's my darling, 
My darling, my darling, 
Charlie, he's my darling — 
The young Chevalier. 

As he was walking up the street, 

The city for to view, 
0, there he spied a bonie lass 

The window looking thro' ! 
An' Charlie, etc. 

f' Sae light's he jumped up the stair^ 

And tirl'd at the pin ;^ 
And wha sae ready as hersel 
To let the laddie in ! 
An' Charlie, etc. 

I He set his Jenny on his knee, 

^ All in his Highland dress; 

For brawlie^ weel he kend^ the way 
t To please a bonie lass. 

^ An' Charlie, etc. 

It's up yon heathery mountain. 

An' down yon scroggy* glen. 
We daur na gang^ a-milking. 

For Charlie and his men. 
An' Charlie, etc. 

1. Tirl'd at the pin. Rattled at a 3. Kend. Knew. 

"rasping pin" — a sort of knocker. 4. Scroggy. Scrubby. 

2 Brawlie. Perfectly. T). Daur na gang. Dare not go. 

I 



i 



224 SELECTED POEMS 

CA^ THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES 

Second Version 

[In Johnson's Museum in 1790 appeared a version of thl^ 
song which Burns said he had patched up from the singing 
of a friend of his. He attempted to improve his first version 
for Thomson in September, 1794, when he sent him thfe text 
printed below.] 

Choral, — Ca' the yowes^ to the kiiowes,^ 

Ca^ them where the heather grows, 
Ca^ them where the burnie rowes/ 
My bonie dearie. 

Hark^ the mavis'* evening sang. 
Sounding Clouden's woods amang; 
Then a-faulding^ let ns gang,^ 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the yowes, etc. 

We'll gae^ down by Clonden side, 
Thro' the hazels, spreading wide 
O'er the waves that sweetly glide 
To the moon sae clearly. 
Ca' the yowes, etc. 

Yonder Clouden's silent towers. 
Where, at moonshine's midnight hours. 
O'er the dewy bending flowers, "^ 
Fairies dance sae cheery. 
Ca' the yowes, etc. 

Ghaist nor bogle^ shalt thou fear; 
Thou'rt to love and Heav'n sae deaar, 
Nocht of ill may come thee near. 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the yowes, etc. 

1. Yowes. Ewes. 6. Gang. Go. 

2. Knowes. Knolls. 7. Gae. Go. 

3. Burnie rowes. Brooklet rolls. 8. Ghaist nor bogle. Ghost nor 

4. Mavis. Til rush. goblin. 

5. A-faulding. Sheep-folding. 



SELECTED POEMS 225 

Fair and lovely as thou art, 
Thou hast stown^ my very heart; 
I can die — but canna part, 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the yowes, etc. 

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE AND CANTIE 
WI^ MAIE 
Tune — "Lumps o' Pudding." 
[Sent to Thomson in November, 1794, and printed by him 
in 1799. 

In a letter written to Thomson in May, 1795, Burns says 
be intended this song as a picture of bis own mind.] 

Contented wi^ little and cantie^ wi' mair, 
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care^ 
I gie^ them a skelp^ as they're creepin alang, 
Wi' a cog* 0^ guid swats^ and an auld Scottish sang. 

I whyles® claw the elbow o' troublesome thought, 
But man is a soger/ and life is a f aught f 
My mirth and guid humor are coin in my pouch,^ 
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur^® 
touch. 

A towmond^^ o' trouble, should that be my f aV^ 
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers^^ it a': 
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last, 
Wha the Deil ever thinks o' the road he has past? 

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte^* on her way; 
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae !^^ 
Come Ease or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain, 
My warst word is, "Welcome, and welcome again !" 

9. Stown. Stolen. 8. Faught. Fight. 

9. Pouch. Pocket. 

1. Cantie. Cheerful. 10. Daur. Dare. 

2. Gie. Give. 11. Towmond. Twelve-month. 

3. Skelp. Slap. 12. Fa'. Lot. 

4. Cog. Bowl. 13. Sowthers. Solders. 

5. Swats. Ale. ^ 14. Snapper and stoyte. Stumble 

6. WhyleSo Sometimes, and stagger. 

7. Soger. Soldier. 15. Jad gae. Jade go. 



226 SELECTED POEMS 

LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS 
Tune — "Rothiemurchie's Rant." 

[Sent to Thomson in November, 1794, but first printed 
by Currie in 1800. 

The heroine of this poem was Jean Lorimer, whom Burns 
also celebrated under the name Chloris, and in whose honor 
he partly rewrote "Whistle and ITl come to ye'' (see 
page 218).] ^ 

Chorus. — Lassie wi' the lint-white^ locks^ 
Bonie lassie, artless lassie. 
Wilt thou wi^ me tent^ the flocks — 
Wilt thou be my dearie, ? 

Now Nature cleeds^ the flowery lea, 
And a^ is young and sweet like thee, 
0, wilt thou share its joys wi' me. 
And say thou'lt be my dearie, ? 
Lassie wi^ the, etc. 

The primrose bank, the wimpling bum,* 
The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn, 
The wanton lambs at early morn 
Shall welcome the^, my dearie, 0. 
Lassie wi' the, etc. 

And when the welcome simmer shower 
Has cheered ilk^ drooping^ little flower, 
We^U to the breathing woodbine-bower 
At sultry noon, my dearie, U. 
Lassie wi^ the, etc. 

When Cynthia lights, wi^ silver ray, 
The weary shearer^s hameward way. 
Thro* yellow waving fields we'U stray. 
And talk o^ love, my dearie, 0, 
Lassie wi' the, etc. 

1. Lint-white. Flaxen, 4. Wimpling bum. Meandering 

2. Tent. Tend. brook. 

3. Cleeds. Clothes. 5. Ilk. Every. 



SELECTED POEMS 227 

And when the howling wintry blast 
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest, 
Enclasped to my faithfu' breast, 
I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O. 
Lassie wi^ the, etc. 

A MAN'S A MAN FOR A^ THAT 

Tune—''For A' That." 

[Sent to Thomson in January, 1795; printed in the 
Glasgow Magazine in August of 'the same year, and in a 
number of other periodicals during the next few years. 

"A great critic (Aikin) on songs says that love and wine 
are the exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is 
on neither subject and consequently is no song.... I do not 
give you the foregoing song for your book, but merely by 
way of vive la bagatelle; for the piece is not really poetry." 
Thus Burns wrote of what has been called "the Marseillaise of 
humanity." 

Note that the same refrain was used in a song in ''The 
Jolly Beggars" (page 106). 1 

Is there for honest poverty 

That hings^ his head, an' a' that? 
The coward slave, we pass him by — 

We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, an' a' that. 

Our toils obscure, an' a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp. 

The man's the gowd^ for a' that. 

What though on hamely fare we dine. 

Wear hoddin^ grey, an' a' that? 
Gie* fools their silks, and knaves their wine — 

A man's a man for a' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that. 

Their tinsel show, an' a' that. 
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that. 

1. Hings. Hangs. 3. Hoddin. Coarse woolen cloth. 

2. Gowd. Gold. 4. Gie. Give. 



228 SELECTED POEMS 

Ye see yon Wrkie caM^ a lord^ 

Wha struts, an^ stares, an^ a' that; 
Tho^ hundreds worship at his word, 

He^s but a coof ® for sJ that. 
For a' that, an' a' that. 

His ribband, star, an' a' that, ^^^^^^ 

The man o' independent mind, . 4|l 

He looks an' laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, an' a' that; 
But an honest man's aboon^ his might — 

Guid faith, he mauna fa'^ that! 
For a' that, an' a' that. 

Their dignities, an' a' that. 
The pith o' sense an' pride o' worth 

Are higher rank than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, 

(As come it will for a' that) 
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth. 

Shall bear the gree,^ an' a' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that. 

It's coming yet for a' that, 
That man to man, the world o'er. 

Shall brithers be for a' that. 

5. Birkie ca'd. Fellow called. 8. Mauna fa'. ' Must not claim. 

6. Goof. Fool. 9. Gree. Prize. 

7. Aboon. Above. 



SELECTED POEMS 229 

THE BEAW WOOEE 

[Sent to Thomson in June or July, 1795, and by him 
published in 1799. 

The Gate-slack (stanza iv) is a romantic pass among the 
Lowther hills on the confines of Dumfriesshire; and Dalgar- 
nock (stanza v) is near the river Nith.] 



Last May a braw^ wooer cam down the lang glen, 
And sair^ wf his love he did deave^ me. 

I said there was naething I hated like men — 
The deuce gae wi^m* to believe me, believe me — 
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me ! 

He spak o^ the darts in my bonie black een/ 

And vow'd for my love he was diein. 
I said, he might die when he liket for Jean — 

The Lord forgie^ me for liein, for liein — 

The Lord f orgie me for liein ! 

A weel-stocket mailen/ himsel for the laird, 
And marriage aff-hand >vere his proffers; 

I never loot^ on that I kenned it, or car'd, 

But I thought I might hae waur^ offers, waur offers — 
But I thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad ye think ? — in a fortnight or less 
(The Deil tak his taste to gae near her !) 

He up the Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess — 

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear 

her — 
Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her. 



1. Braw. Fine. 6. Forgie. Forgive. 

2. Sair. Sorely. 7. Mailen. Farm. 

3. Deave. Deafen. 8. Loot. Let. 

4. Gae wi'm. Go with him. 9. Waur. Worse. 

5. Een. Eyes. 



230 SELECTED POEMS 

But a^ the niest^^ week^ as I petted wi^ care, 

I gaed^^ to the tryste o^ Dalgamock; 
And wha but my fine fickle wooer was there? 

I glowyd^^ as I'd seen a warlock/^ a warlock — 

I glowr'd aa I'd seen a warlock. 

But owre my left shouther^* I gae^^ him a blink. 

Lest neebors might say I was saucy ; 
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie — 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie. 

I spier'd^^ for my cousin fu' couthy^^ and sweet, 

Gin^^ she had recovered her hearin ? 
And how her new shoon^^ fit her auld shachFd^^ feet ? 

But heavens ! how he fell a-swearin, a-swearin — 

But heavens ! how he fell a-swearin ! 

He begged, for gudesake, I wad be his wife, 

Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; 
So e'en to preserve the poof body in life, 

I think I maun^^ wed him tomorrow, tomorrow — 

I think I maun wed him tomorrow. 



10. Niest. Next. 16. Spier'd. Asked. 

11. Gaed. Went. 17. Couthy. Kindly. 

12. GlowrM. Stared. 18. Gin. If. 

13. Warlock. Wizard. 19. Shoon. Shoes. 

14. Shouther. Shoulder. 20. Shachrd. Shapelo 

15. Gae. Gave. 21. Maun. Must. 



SELECTED POEMS 231 

A LASS WI^ A TOCHEE^ 

Tune — "Ballinamona Ora." 

[Sent to Thomson in February^ 1796, and by him published 
in 1799. J 

Awa wi' your witchcraft o^ Beauty^s alarms. 
The slender bit^ beauty you grasp in your arms ! 
0, gie^ me the lass that has acres o^ charms ! 
0, gie me the lass wi^ the weel-stockit farms ! 

Chorus, — Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher. 
Then hey for a lass wi^ a tocher. 
Then hey for a lass wi^ a tocher. 
The nice yellow guineas for me! 

Your Beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows. 
And withers the faster, the faster it grows; 
But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes/ 
Ilk^ spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes !^ 
Then hey for a lass, etc. 

And e'en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest, 
The brightest o' Beauty may cloy when possessed ; 
But the sweet, yellow darlings wi' Geordie^ impressed. 
The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest ! 
Then hey for a lass, etc. 



1. Tocher. Dower. 5. Ilk. Every . 

2. Bit. Small. 6. Yowes. Eweo. 

3. Gie. Give. 7. Geordie. King George III, whose 

4. Knowes. Knolls. image adorned golden guineas. 



\/ 



232 SELECTED POEMS 

0, WEET THOU IN" THE CAULD BLAST 

[Written during Burns^s last illness in compliment to 
Jessie Lewars, the daughter of a fellow exciseman and a great 
help to Mrs. Burns at this time.] 

0, wert thou in the cauld blast 

On yonder lea, on yonder lea. 
My plaidie to the angry airt,^ 

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee ; 
Or did Misfortnne^s bitter storms 

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw. 
Thy bield^ should be my bosom, 

To share it a', to share it a\ 

Or were I in the wildest waste, 

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, 
The desert were a Paradise, 

If thou wert there, if thou wert there ; 
Or were I monarch of the globe, 

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, 
, The brightest jewel in my crown 

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. 

1. Airt. Wind. 

2. Bield. Shelter. 



J 



CAELYLFS ESSAY OX BUENS 

In the modern arrangements of society it is no 
uncommon thing that a man of genius must^ like 
Butler, ^^ask for bread and receive a stone'^* ; for, in 
spite of our grand maxim of supply and demand,* it 
sis by no means the highest excellence that men are 
most forward to recognize. The inventor* of a spin- 
ning-jenny is pretty sure of his reward in his own 
day; but the writer of a true poem, like the apostle 
of a true religion, is nearly as sure of the contraxy. 

10 We do not know whether it is not an aggravation of 
the injustice, that there is generally a posthumous 
retribution. Eobert Burns^ in the course of Nature, 
might yet have been living X but his short life was 
spent in toil and penury ; and he died, in the prime of 

15 his manhood, miserable and neglected. And yet al- 
ready a brave mausoleum* shines over his dust, and 
more than one splendid monument has been reared in 
other places to his fame; the street* where he lan- 
guished in poverty is called by his name ; the highest 

20 personages in our literature have been proud to appear 
as his commentators and admirers; and here is the 
sixilfi narrative* of his Life that has been given to the 
world ! 

Mr. Lockhart thinks it necessary to apologize for 

25 this new attempt on such a subject; but his read- 
ers, we believe, will readily acquit him ; or, at worst, 
will censure only the performance of his task, not 
the choice of it. The character of Burns, indeed, is 
a theme that cannot easily become either trite or ex- 

sohausted; and will probably gain rather than lose in 
its dimensions by the distance to which it is removed 
by Time. JSTo man, it has been said, is a hero* to his 

233 



234 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

valet; and this is probably true; but the fault is at 
least as likely to be the valet's as the hero's. For 
it is certain that to the vulgar eye few things are won- 
derful that are not distant. It is difficult for men 
a to believe that the man, the mere man whom they 
see — nay, perhaps painfully feel, toiling at their side 
through the poor jostlings of existence, can be made of 
finer clay than themselves. Suppose that some dining 
£tcquaintance of Sir Thomas Lucy's,* and neighbor 

10 of John a Combe's,* had snatched an hour or two 
from the preservation of his game, and written us a 
Life of Shakespeare ! What dissertations should we 
not have had — not on Hamlet and The Tempest, but 
on the wool-trade, and deer-stealing, and the libel and 

15 vagrant laws ; and how the Poacher became a Player ; 
and how Sir Thomas and Mr. John had Christian 
bowels, and did not push him to extremities ! In like 
manner, we believe, with respect to Burns, that till 
the companions of his pilgrimage, the Honorable Ex- 

20 cise Commissioners,* and the Gentlemen of the Cale- 
donian Hunt,* and the Dumfries Aristocracy, and all 
the Squires and Earls, equally with the Ayr Writers, 
and the Few and Old Light Clergy* whom he had to 
do with, shall have become invisible in the darkness 

25 of the Past, or visible only by light borrowed from his 
juxtaposition, it will be difficult to measure him by 
any true standard, or to estimate what he really was 
and did, in the eighteenth century, for his country 
and the world. It will be difficult, we say, but still 

30 a fair problem for literary historians; and repeated 
attempts will give us repeated approximations. 

His former Biographers have done something, no 
doubt, but by no means a great deal, to assist us. 
Dr. Currie and Mr. Walker, the priucipal of these 

,35 writers, have both, we think, mistaken one essen- 



CARBYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 235 

tially important thing — their own and the world's 
true relation to their author, and the 'style in which 
it became such men to think and to speak of such 
a man. Dr. Currie loved the poet truly; more per- 

5 haps than he avowed to his readers, or even to 
himself;' yet he everywhere introduces him with a 
certain patronizing, apologetic air; as if the polite 
public might think it strange and half unwarrant- 
able that he, a man of science, a scholar and gentle- 

10 man, should do such honor to a rustic. In all thi.^, 
however, we readily admit that his fault was not want 
of love, but weakness of faith; and regret that the 
first and kindest of all our poef s biographers should 
not have seen further or believed more boldly what 

15 he saw. Mr. Walker offends more deeply in the same 
kind; and both err alike in presenting us with a de- 
tached catalogue of his several supposed attributes, 
virtues, and vices, instead of a delineation of the re- 
sulting character as a living unity. This, however, 

20 is not paintiiig a portrait; but gauging the length 
and breadth of the several features, and jotting down 
their dimensions in arithmetical ciphers. Nay, it is 
not so much as that; for we are yet to learn by what 
arts or instruments the mind could be so measured 

25 and gauged. 

Mr. Lockhart, we are happy to say, has avoided 
both these errors. He uniformly treats Burns as the 
high and remarkable man the public voice has now 
pronounced him to be; and in delineating him he 

30 has avoided the method of separate generalities, and 
rather sought for characteristic incidents, habits, 
actions, sayings ; in a word, for aspects which exliibit 
the whole man, as he looked and lived among his 
fellows. The book, accordingly, with all its de- 

35ficiencies, gives more insight, we think, into the true 



236 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

character of Burns than any prior biography ; though, 
being written on the very popular and condensed 
scheme of an article for Constable's Miscellany j* it 
has less depth than we could have wished and^'ex- 
spected from a writer of such power; and contains 
rather more, and more multifarious, quotations than 
belong of right to an original production. Indeed, 
Mr. Lockhart's own writing is generally so good, so 
clear, direct, and nervous, that we seldom wish to see 

10 it making place for another man^s. However, the 
spirit of the work is throughout candid, tolerant, and 
anxiously conciliating; compliments and praises are 
liberally distributed, on all hands, to great and small ; 
and, as Mr. Morris Birkbeck* observes of the society 

15 in the backwoods of America, ^^the courtesies of polite 
life are never lost sight of for a moment.'^ But there 
are better things than these in the volume; and we 
can safely testify not only that it is easily and pleas- 
antly read a first time, but may even be without diffi- 

20culty read again. 

Nevertheless, we are far from thinking that the 
problem of Burns's Biography has yet been ade- 
quately solved. We do not allude so much to de- 
ficiency of facts or documents — though of these we 

25 are still every day receiving some fresh accession — 
as to the limited and imperfect application of them 
to the great end of Biography. Our notions upon 
this subject may perhaps appear extravagant; but 
if an individual is really of consequence enough to 

30 have his life and character recorded for public re- 
membrance, we have always been of opinion that the 
public ought to be made acquainted with all the in- 
ward springs and relations of his character. How did 
the world and man's life, from his particular position, 

35 represent themselves to his mind? How did co- 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY OX BURNS 237 

existing circumstances modify him from without; 
how did he modify these from within? With what 
endeavors and what efficacy rule over them; with 
what resistance and what suffering sink under them ? 
sin one word^ what and how produced was the eifect 
of society on him; what and how produced was his 
effect on society ? He who shouM. answer these ques- 
tions, in regard to any individual, would, as we be- 
lieve, furnish a model of perfection in Biography. 

10 Few individuals, indeed, can deserve such a study; 
and many lives will be written, and, for the gi'ati- 
fication of innocent curiosity, ought to be written, and 
read, and forgotten, which are not in this sense 
biographies. But Burns, if we mistake not, is one 

15 of these few individuals; and such a study, at least 
with such a result, he has not yet obtained. Our 
own contributions to it, we are aware, can be but 
scanty and feeble ; but we offer them with good will, 
and trust they may meet with acceptance from those 

20 they are intended for. , 

Burns first came upon the world as a prodigy; 

and was, in that character, entertained by it, in the 

usual fashion, with loud, vague, tumultuous wonder, 

speedily subsiding into censure and neglect; till his 

25early and most mournful death again awakened an 
enthusiasm for him, which, especially as there was 
now nothing to be done and much to be spoken, has 
prolonged itself even to our own time. It is true, 
the ^^nine days"* have long since elapsed; and the 

30 very continuance of this clamor proves that Burns 
was no vulgar wonder. Accordingly, even in sober 
judgments, where, as years passed by, he has come 
to rest more and more exclusively on his own intrinsic 
merits, and may now be well-nigh shorn of that casual 

35 radiance, he appears not only as a true British poet. 



238 CARI^YLE^S ESSAY ON BURNS 

but as one of the most considerable British men of 
the eighteenth century. Let it not be objected that 
lie did little. He did much^ if we consider where 
and how. If the work performed was small^ we must 
5 remember that he had his very materials to discover ; 
for the metal he worked in lay hid under the desert 
moor, where no eye but his* had guessed its existence ; 
and we may almost say that with his own hand he had 
to construct the tools for fashioning it. For he found 

10 himself in deepest obscurity, without help, without 
instruction, without model, or with models only of 
the meanest sort. An educated man stands, as it 
were, in the midst of a boundless arsenal and maga- 
zine, filled with all the weapons and engines which 

15 man's skill has been able to devise from the earliest 
time ; and he works, accordingly, with a strength bor- 
rowed from all past ages. How different is his state 
who stands on the outside of that storehouse and 
feels that its gates must be stormed, or remain forever 

20 shut against him ! His means are the commonest 
and rudest ; the mere work done is no measure of his 
strength. A dwarf behind his steam engine may re- 
move mountains; but no dwarf will hew them down 
with a pickax; and he must be a Titan that hurls 

25 them abroad with his arms. 

It is in this last shape that Burns presents him- 
self. Born in an age the most prosaic Britain had 
yet seen, and in a condition the most disadvanta- 
geous, where his mind, if it accomplished aught, must 

30 accomplish it under the pressure of continual bodily 
toil, nay, of penury and desponding apprehension of 
the worst evils, and with no furtherance but such 
knowledge as dwells in a poor man's hut, and the 
rimes of a Pergusson or Eamsay* for his standard of 

35 beauty, he sinks not under all these impediments. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 239 

Through the fogs and darkness of that obscnre region 
his lynx eye discerns the true relations of the world 
and human life; he grows into intellectual strength 
and trains himself into intellectual expertness. Im- 
spelled by the expansive movement of his own irre- 
pressible soul he struggles forward into the general 
view, and with haughty modesty lays down before us, 
as the fruit of his labor, a gift which Time has now 
pronounced imperishable. Add to all this, that his 

10 darksome, drudging childhood and youth was by far 
the kindliest era of his whole life, and that he died 
in his thirty-seventh year — and then ask if it be 
strange that his poems are imperfect and of small 
extent, or that his genius attained no mastery in its 

15 art. Alas, his Sun shone as through a tropical tor- 
nado; and the pale Shadow of Death eclipsed it at 
noon! Shrouded in such baleful vapors, the genius 
of Burns was never seen in clear, azure splendor en- 
lightening the world ; but some beams from it did, by 

2a fits, pierce through; and it tinted those clouds with 
rainbow and orient colors into a glory and stern 
grandeur which men silently gazed on with wonder 
and tears ! 

We are anxious not to exaggerate, for it is expo- 

25sition rather than admiration that our readers re- 
quire of us here; and yet to avoid some tendency to 
that side is no easy matter. We love Burns and we 
pity him; and love and pity are prone to magnify. 
Criticism, it is sometimes thought, should be a cold 

30 business; we are not so sure of this; but, at all 
events, our concern, with Burns is not exclusively that 
of critics. True and genial as his poetry must ap- 
pear, it is not chiefly as a poet, but as a man, that 
he interests and affects us. He was often advised to 

35 write a tragedy. Time and moans were not lent him 



240 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

for this; but through life he enacted a tragedy, and 
one of the deepest. We question whether the world 
has since witnessed so utterly sad a scene; whether 
J^apoleon himself, left to brawl with Sir Hudson 
5 Lowe,* and perish on his rock, ^^amid the melancholy 
main,'^* presented to the reflecting mind such a ^^spec- 
tacle of pity and fear^^* as did this intrinsically nobler, 
gentler, and perhaps greater soul, wasting itself away 
in a hopeless struggle with base entanglements, which 

10 coiled closer and closer round him, till only death 
opened him an outlet. Conquerors are a class of 
men with whom, for most part, the world could 
well dispense; nor can the hard intellect, the un- 
sympathizing loftiness, and high but selfish en- 

15 thusiasm of such persons inspire us, in general, with 
any affection ; at best it may excite amazement ; and 
their fall, like that of a pyramid, will be beheld 
with a certain sadness and awe. But a true Poet, a 
man in whose heart resides some effluence of Wisdom, 

20 some tone of the ^^Eternal Melodies,^^* is the most 
precious gift that can be bestowed on a generation; 
we see him in a freer, purer development of whatever 
is noblest in ourselves ; his life is a rich lesson to us ; 
and we mourn his death as that of a benefactor who 

25 loved and taught us. 

Such a gift had Nature, in her bounty, bestowed 
on us in Eobert Burns; but with queenlike indiffer- 
ence she cast it from her hand, like a thing of no 
moment; and it was defaced and torn asunder, as 

30 an idle bauble, before we recognized it. To the ill- 
starred Burns was given the power of making man's 
life more venerable; but that of wisely guiding his 
own life was not given. Destiny — for so in our 
ignorance we must speak — ^his faults, the faults of 

35 others, proved too hard for him; and that spirit 



n 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 241 

which might have soared, could it but have walked, 
soon sank to the dust, its glorious faculties trodden 
under foot in the blossom; and died, we may almost 
say, without ever having lived. And so kind and 

5 warm a soul, so full of inborn riches, of love to all 
living and lifeless things ! How his heart flows out 
in sympathy over universal Nature ; and in her bleak- 
est provinces discerns a beauty and a meaning ! The 
^^Daisy^^* falls not unheeded under his plowshare; 

10 nor the ruined nest of that ^Svee, cowrin, tim'rous 
beastie,^^* cast forth, after all its provident pains, to 
"thole the sleety dribble and cranreuch cauld/^ The 
"hoar visage'' of Winter delights him ; he dwells with 
a sad and oft-returning fondness in these scenes of 

15 solemn desolation; but the voice of the tempest be- 
comes an anthem to his ears ; he loves to walk in the 
sounding woods, for "it raises his thoughts* to Him 
that walJceth on the wings of the wind." A true 
Poet-soul, for it needs but to be struck, and the sound 

20 it yields will be music! But observe him chiefly as 
he mingles^ with his brother men. What warm., all- 
comprehending fellow-feeling; what trustful, bound- 
less love; what generous exaggeration of the object 
loved! His rustic friend, his nut-brown maiden are 

25 no longer mean and homely, but a hero and a queen, 
whom he prizes as the paragons of Earth. The rough 
scenes of Scottish life, not seen by him in any Ar- 
cadian illusion, but in the rude contradiction, in the 
smoke and soil of a too harsh reality, are still lovely 

30 to him; Poverty is indeed his companion, but Love 
also, and Courage ; the simple feelings, the worth, the 
nobleness, that dwell under the straw roof, are dear 
and venerable to his heart ; and thus over the lowest 
provinces of man's existence he pours the glory of 

36 his own soul; and they rise, in shadow and sunshine, 



242 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

softened and brightened into a beauty which other 
eyes discern not in the highest. He has a just self- 
consciousness^ which too often degenerates into pride ; 
yet it is a noble pride, for defense, not for offense; 
5 no cold, suspicious feeling, but a frank and social one. 
The Peasant Poet bears himself, we might say, like 
a King in exile; he is cast among the low and feels 
himself equal to the highest; yet he claims no rank, 
that none may be disputed to him. The forward he 

10 can repel, the supercilious he can subdue ; pretensions 
of wealth or ancestry are of no avail with him ; there 
is a fire in that dark eye, under which the "in- 
solence of condescension'^* cannot thrive. In his 
abasement, in his extreme need, he forgets not for a 

15 moment the majesty of Poetry and Manhood. And yet, 
far as he feels himself above common men, he' wan- 
ders not apart from them, but mixes warmly in their 
interests: nay, throws himself into their arms, and^ 
as it were, entreats them to love him. It is moving 

20 to see how, in his darkest despondency, this proud 
being still seeks relief from friendship; unbosoms 
himself, often to the unworthy; and, amid tears, 
strains to his glowing heart a heart that knows only 
the name of friendship. And yet he was "quick to 

25 learn,''* a man of keen vision, before whom common 
disguises afforded no concealment. His understand- 
ing saw through the hoUowness even of accomplished 
deceivers; but there was a generous credulity in his 
heart. And so did our Peasant show himself among 

30 us, "a soul like an ^olian harp,* in whose strings the 
vulgar wind, as it passed through them, changed 
itself into articulate melody." And this was he for 
whom the world found, no fitter business* than quar- 
reling with smugglers and vintners, computing excise 

35 dues upon tallow, and gauging ale-barrels! In such 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 243 

toils was that mighty Spirit sorroAvfully wasted; and 
a hundred years may pass on before another such is 
given us to waste. 
All that remains of Burns, the Writings he has 
5 left, seem to us, as we hinted above, no more than 
a poor, mutilated fraction of what was in him; brief, 
broken glimpses of a genius that could never show 
itself complete; that wanted all things for com- 
pleteness — culture, leisure, true effort, nay, even 

10 length of life. His poems are, with scarcely any ex- 
ception, mere occasional effusions ; poured forth with 
little premeditation; expressing, by such means as 
offered, the passion, opinion, or humor of the hour. 
Never in one instance was it permitted him to grapple 

15 with any subject with the full collection of his 
strength, to fuse and mold it in the concentrated 
fire of his genius. To try by the strict rules of Art 
such imperfect fragments would be at once unprofit- 
able and unfair. Nevertheless, there is something in 

20 these poems, marred and defective as they are, which 
forbids the most fastidious student of poetry to pass 
them by. Some sort of enduring quality they must 
have ; for after fifty years of the wildest vicissitudes in 
poetic taste they still continue to be read; nay, are 

25 read more and more eagerly, more and more exten- 
sively; and this not only by literary virtuosos, and 
that class upon whom transitory causes operate most 
strongly, but by all classes, down to the most hard, 
unlettered, and truly natural class, who read little, 

30 and especially no poetry, except because they find 
pleasure in it. The grounds of so singular and wide 
a popularity, which extends, in a literal sense, from 
the palace to the hut, and over all regions where the 
English tongue is spoken, are well worth inquiring 

36 into. After every just deduction, it seems to imply 



244 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

some rare excellence in these works. What is that 
excellence ? 

To answer this question will not lead us far. The 
excellence of Burns is^ indeed, among the rarest, 
5 whether in poetry or prose; but, at the same time, 
it is plain and easily recognized — ^his Sincerity, his in- 
disputable air of Truth. Here are no fabulous woes 
or joys; no hollow, fantastic sentimentalities; no 
wiredrawn refinings, either in thought or feeling ; the 

10 passion that is traced before us has glowed in a living 
heart; the opinion he utters has risen in his own 
understanding, and been a light to his own steps. 
He does not write from hearsay, but from sight and 
experience; it is the scenes that he has lived and 

15 labored amidst that he describes; those scenes, rude 
and humble as they are, have kindled beautiful emo- 
tions in his soul, noble thoughts, and definite resolves ; 
and he speaks forth what is in him, not from any out- 
ward call of vanity or interest, but because his heart 

20 is too full to be silent. He speaks it with such melody 
and modulation as he can, ^^in homely, rustic jingle"* ; 
but it is his own, and genuine. This is the grand 
secret for finding readers and retaining them ; let him 
who would move and convinpe others be first moved 

25 and convinced himself. Horace^s rule, Si vis me flere,"^ 
is applicable in a wider sense than the literal one. 
To every poet, to every writer, we might say: Be 
true, if you would be believed. Let a man but speak 
forth with ^genuine, earnestness the thought, the emo- 

30 tion, the actual condition of his own heart, and other 
men, so strangely are we all knit together by the tie 
of sympathy, must and will give heed to him. In 
culture, in extent of view, we may stand above the 
speaker, or below him; but in either case his words,' 

35 if they are earnest and sincere, will find some response 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 245 

within us ; for in spite of all casual varieties in out- 
ward rank or inward^ as face answers to face, so does 
the heart of man to man. 

This may appear a very simple principle, and one 
5 which Burns had little merit in discovering. True, 
the discovery is easy enough ; but the practical appli- 
ance is not easy ; is indeed the fundamental diflBculty 
which all poets have to strive with, and which scarcely 
one in the hundred ever fairly surmounts. A head 

10 too dull to discriminate the true from the false, a 

heart too dull to love the one at all risks and to hate 

the other in spite of all temptations, are alike fatal 

to a writer. With either, or, as more commonly 

. happens, with both of these deficiencies, combine a 

13 love of distinction, a wish to be original, which is 
seldom wanting ; and we have Affectation, the bane of 
literature, as Cant, its elder brother, is of morals. 
How often does the one and the other front us, in 
poetry as in life ! Great poets themselves are not 

20 always free of this vice ; nay, it is precisely on a cer- 
tain sort and degree of greatness that it is most 
commonly ingrafted. A strong effort after excellence 
will sometimes solace itself with a mere shadow of 
success; he who has much to unfold will sometimes 

25 unfold it imperfectly. Byron, for instance, was no 
common man ; 3^et if we examine his poetry with this 
view, we shall find it far from faultless. Generally 
speaking, we should say that it is not true. He re- 
freshes us, not with the divine fountain, but too often 

30 with vulgar, strong waters, stimulating indeed to the 
taste, but soon ending in dislike, or even nausea. Are 
his Harolds and Giaours,* we would ask, real men; 
we mean, poetically consistent and conceivable men? 
Do not these characters, does not the character of 

35 their author, which more or less shines through them 



246 CAKLYLE'S ESSAY OX BURNS 

all, rather appear a thing put on for the occasion — 
no natural or possible mode of being, but something 
intended to look much grander than nature ? Surely, 
all these stormful agonies, this volcanic heroism, 
5 superhuman contempt, and moody desperation, with 
so much scowling, and teeth-gnashing, and other sul- 
phurous humor, is more like the brawling of a player 
in some paltry tragedy, which is to last three hours, 
than the bearing of a man in the business of life, 

10 which is to last three-score and ten years. To our 
minds there is a taint of this sort, something which 
we should call theatrical, false, affected, in every one 
of these otherwise so powerful pieces. Perhaps Don 
Juan, especially the latter parts of it, is the only thing 

15 approaching to a sincere work he ever wrote; the 
only work where he showed himself, in any measure, 
as he was; and seemed so intent on his subject as, 
for moments, to forget himself. Yet Byron hated 
this vice, we believe, heartily detested it ; nay, he had 

20 declared formal war against it in words. So difficult 
is it even for the strongest to make this primary at- 
tainment, which might seem the simplest of all: to 
read its own consciousness luithout mistakes, without 
errors involuntary or willful! We recollect no poet 

25 of Burns's susceptibility who comes before us from 
the first, and abides with us to the last, with such a 
total want of affectation. He is an honest man and 
an honest writer. In his successes and his failures, 
in his greatness and his littleness, he is ever clear, 

30 simple, true, and glitters with no luster but his own. 

We reckon this to be a great virtue ; to be, in fact, the 

root of most other virtues, literary as well as moral. 

Here, however, let us say, it is to the Poetry of 

Burns that we now allude; to those writings which 

35 he had time to meditate, and where no special rea- 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 247 

son existed to warp his critical feeling or obstruct 
his endeavor to fulfill it. Certain of his Letters, and 
other fractions of prose composition, by no means 
deserve this praise. Here, doubtless, there is not the 
5 same natural truth of st3de; but, on the contrary, 
something not only stiff, but strained and twisted; a 
certain high-flown, inflated tone, the stilting em- 
phasis of which contrasts ill with the firmness and 
rugged simplicity of even his poorest verses. Thus 

10 no man, it would appear, is altogether unaffected. 
Does not Shakespeare himself sometimes premeditate 
the sheerest bombast ! But even with regard to these 
Letters of Burns, it is but fair to state that he had 
two excuses. The first was his comparative deficiency 

15 in language. Burns, though for the most part he 
writes with singular force and even gracefulness, is 
not master of English prose, as he is of Scottish verse ; 
not master of it, we mean, in proportion to the depth 
and vehemence of his matter. These Letters strike 

20 us as the effort of a man to express something which 
he has no organ fit for expressing. But a second 
and weightier excuse is to be found in the peculiarity 
of Burns's social rank. His correspondents are often 
men whose relation to him he has never accurately 

25 ascertained ; whom, therefore, he is either forearming 
himself against, or else unconsciously flattering, by 
adopting the style he thinks will please them. At all 
events, we should remember that these faults, even 
in his Letters, are not the rule, but the exception. 

30 Whenever he writes, as one would ever wish to do, 
to trusted ffiends and on real interests, his style be- 
comes simple, visforous, expressive, sometimes even 
beautiful. His letters to Mrs. Dunlop* are uniformly 
excellent. 

35 But we return to his Poetry. In addition to its 



248 CAELYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

Sincerity^ it has another peculiar merit, which indeed 
is but a mode, or perhaps a means, of the foregoing; 
this displays itself in his choice of subjects; lOr 
rather in his indifference as to subjects, and the 

5 power he has of making all subjects interesting. The 
ordinary poet, like the ordinary man, is forever seek- 
ing in external circumstances the help which can be 
found only in himself. In what is familiar and near 
at hand, he discerns no form or comeliness ; home is 

10 not poetical, but prosaic; it is in some past, distant, 
conventional, heroic world that poetry resides for 
him; were he there and not here, were he thus and 
not so, it would be well with him. Hence our in- 
numerable host of rose-colored Novels and iron- 
is mailed Epics, with their locality not on the Earth but 
somewhere nearer to the Moon. Hence our Virgins 
of the Sun,* and our Knights of the Cross, malicious 
Saracens in turbans, and copper-colored Chiefs in 
wampum, and so many other truculent figures from 

20 the heroic times or the heroic climates, who on all 
hands swarm in our poetry. Peace be with them! 
But yet, as a great moralist proposed preaching to 
the men of this century, so would we fain preach to 
the poets, ^^a sermon on the duty of staying at home/* 

25 Let them be sure that heroic ages and heroic cli- 
mates can do little for them. That form of life has 
attraction for us, less because it is better or nobler 
than our own, than simply because it is different ; and 
even this attraction must be of the most transient 

30 sort. For will not our o^vn age, one day, be an 
ancient one, and have as quaint a costume as the rest ; 
not contrasted with the rest, therefore, but ranked 
along with them, in respect of quaintness? Does 
Homer interest us now because he wrote of what 

35 passed beyond his native Greece, and two centuries | 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 249 

before he was born; or because he wrote what passed 
in God^s world, and in the heart of man, which is the 
same after thirty centuries? Let our poets look to 
this: is their feeling really finer, truer, and their 

5 vision deeper than that of other men — they have 
nothing to fear, even from the humblest subject; is 
it not so — they have nothing to hope but an ephemeral 
favor, even from the highest. 

The poet, we imagine, can never have far to seek 

10 for a subject; the elements of his art are in him, 
and around him on every hand; for him the Ideal 
world is not remote from the Actual, but under it 
and within it; nay, he is a poet precisely because 
he can discern it there. Wherever there is a sky 

15 above him and a world around him, the poet is in 
his place; for here too is man^s existence, with its 
infinite longings and small acquirings; its ever- 
thwarted, ever-renewed endeavors ; its unspeakable 
aspirations, its fears and hopes that wander through 

20 Eternity; and all the mystery of brightness and of 
gloom that it was ever made of, in any age or cli- 
mate, since man first began to live. Is there not 
the fifth act of a Tragedy in every deathbed, though 
it were a peasant's, and a bed of heath? And are 

25wooings and weddings obsolete, that there can be 
Comedy no longer? Or are men suddenly grown 
wise, that Laughter must no longer shake his sides, 
but be cheated of his Farce? Man's life and nature 
is as it was, and as it will ever be. But the poet must 

30 have an eye to read these things and a heart to under- 
stand them ; or they come and pass away before him 
in vain. He is a vates,^ a seer ; a gift of vision has 
been given him. Has life no meanings for him which 
another cannot equally decipher, then he is no poet, 

35 and Delphi* itself will not make him one. 



250 CiPvLYLE'S ESSAY OX BURNS 

In this respect^ Burns, though not perhaps abso- 
lutely a great poet, better manifests his capability, 
better proves the truth of his genius, than if he had 
by his own strength kept the whole Minerva Press* 

6 going, to the end of his literary course. He shows 
himself at least a poet of Nature^s own making; and 
Nature, after all, is still the grand agent in making 
poets. We often hear of this and the other external 
condition being requisite for the existence of a poet 

10 Sometimes it is a certain sort of training; he must 
have studied certain things, studied, for instance, "the 
elder dramatists,^^ and so learned a poetic language; 
as if poetry lay in the tongue, not in the heart. 
At other times we are told he must be bred in a cer- 

15 tain rank', and must be on confidential footing with 
the higher classes ; because, above all things, he must 
see the world. As to seeing the world, we apprehend 
this will cause him little difficulty, if he have but 
eyesight to see it with. Without eyesight, indeed, the 

20 task might be hard. The blind or the purblind man 
"travels from Dan to Beersheba* and finds it all 
barren.^^ But happily every poet is born in the world ; 
and sees it, with or against his will, every day and 
every hour he lives. The mysterious workmanship of 

25man^s heart, the true light and the inscrutable dark- 
ness of man's destiny, reveal themselves not only in 
capital cities and crowded saloons, but in every hut 
and hamlet where men have their abode. Nay, do not 
the elements of all human virtues and all human 

30 vices, the passions at once of a Borgia* and of a 
Luther, lie written in stronger or fainter lines in the 
consciousness of every individual bosom that has prac- 
ticed honest self-examination? Truly, this same 
world may be seen in Mossgiel and Tarbolton,* if we 

36 look well, as clearly as it ever came to light in 
Crockford's* or the Tuileries* itself. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 251 

But sometimes still harder requisitions are laid on 
the poor aspirant to poetry; for it is hinted that he 
should have been born two centuries ago; inasmuch 
as poetry, about that date^, vanished from the earth 
5 and became no longer attainable by men ! Such cob- 
web speculations have, now and then, overhung the 
field of literature ; but they obstruct not the growth 
of any plant there; the Shakespeare or the Burns, 
unconsciously, and merely as he walks onward, silently 

10 brushes them away. Is not every genius an impos- 
sibility till he appear? Why do we call him new 
and original, if we saw where his marble was lying, 
and what fabric he could, rear from it? It is not the 
material but the workman that is wanting. It is 

15 not the dark place that hinders, but the dim eye. A 
Scottish peasant's life was the meanest and rudest 
of all lives till Burns became a poet in it and a poet 
of it, found it a mans life, and therefore significant 
to men. A thousand battlefields remain unsung; but 

20 the ^^Wounded Hare^^* has not perished without its 
memorial; a balm of mercy yet breathes on us from 
its dumb agonies, because a poet was there. Our 
Halloween* had passed and repassed, in rude awe and 
laughter, since the era of the Druids; but no 

25 Theocritus,* till Burns, discerned in it the materials 
of a Scottish Idyl ; neither was the ^^Holy Fair"* any 
Council of Trent* or Eoman Jubilee;* but, never- 
theless. Superstition and Hypocrisy and Fun having 
been propitious to him, in this man's hand it became 

30 a poem, instinct with satire and genuine comic life. 
Let but the true poet be given us, we repeat it; place 
him where and how you will; and true poetry will 
not be wanting. 

Independently of the essential gift of poetic feel- 

35ing, as we have now attempted to describe it, a cer- 



252 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

tain rugged, sterling worth pervades whatever Burns 
has written; a virtue, as of green fields and moun- 
tain breezes, dwells in his poetry; it is redolent of 
natural life and hardy, natural men. There is a 
5 decisive strength in him, and yet a sweet, native 
gracefulness; he is tender, he is vehement, yet with- 
out constraint or too visible effort; he melts the 
heart, or inflames it, with a power which seems 
habitual and familiar to him. We see ,that in this 

10 man there Avas the gentleness, the trembling pity 
of a woman, with the deep earnestness, the force and 
passionate ardor of a hero. Tears lie in him, and 
consuming fire; as lightning lurks in the drop^ of 
the summer cloud. He has a resonance in his bosom 

15 for every note of human feeling; the high and the 
low, the sad, the ludicrous, the joyful, are welcome 
in their turns to his "lightly-moved and all-conceiv- 
ing spirit.'^ And observe with what a fierce, prompt 
force he grasps his subject, be it what it may ! How 

20 he fixes, as it were, the full image of the matter in his 
eye; full and clear in every lineament; and catches 
the real type and essence of it, amid a thousand ac- 
cidents and superficial circumstances, no one of 
which misleads him! Is it of reason; some truth to 

25 be discovered? No sophistry, no vain surface-logic 
detains him; quick, resolute, unerring, he pierces 
through into the marrow of the question; and speaks 
his verdict with an emphasis that cannot be forgotten. 
Is it of description; some visual object to be repre- 

30 sented ? No poet of any age or nation is more graphic j 
than Burns; the characteristic features disclose 
themselves to him at a glance; three lines from hisj 
hand, and we have a likeness. And, in that rough 
dialect, in that rude, often awkward, meter, so clear 

35 and definite a likeness ! It seems a draughtsman 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 253 

working with a burnt stick; and yet the burin of a 
Eetzsch* is not more expressive or exact. 

Of this^ last excellence^ the plainest and most com- 
prehensive of all^ being indeed the root and founda- 
5tion of every sort of talent^ poetical or intellectual, 
we could produce innumerable instances from the 
writings of Burns. Take these glimpses of a snow- 
storm from his ^Winter Mght^'* (the italics are 
ours) ^ : 

10 When biting Boreas, fell and doure, 

Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; 
And Phoebus gies a short-liv'd gloiv'r, 

Far south the lift, 
Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r, 

15 Or whirling drift: 

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked, 
Poor Labor sweet in sleep was locked. 
While burns, wi' snawy wreaths up-chok'd, 

Wild-eddying sivirl, 
20 Or, thro' the mining outlet bocked, 

Down headlong hurl: 

Are there not '^^descriptive touches^^ here? The de- 
scriber saw this thing, the essential feature and true 
likeness of every circumstance in it; saw, and not 

25 with the eye only. ^Toor labor locked in sweet 
sleep'^; the dead stillness of man, unconscious, van- 
quished, yet not unprotected, while such strife of the 
material elements rages, and seems to reign supreme 
in loneliness; this is of the heart as well as of the 

30 eye ! — Look also at his image of a thaw, and prophe- 
sied fall of the /'Auld Brig'^* : 

1. For definitions of Scottish words in these stanzas, see 
page 161. 



254 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains 
Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains; 
When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, 
Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains hoil, 
5 Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course, 
Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source, 
Arous'd by blust'ring winds and spotting thowes,i 
In mony a torrent down his snaw-hroo roives;^ 
While crushing ice, home on the roaring speat,^ 
10 Siceeps dams and mills and hrigs a' to the gate; 
And from Glenbuck down to the Rottonkey,^ 
Auld Ayr is just one lengthened tumbling sea; 
Then down ye'll hurl, Deil nor ye never rise! 
And dash the gumlie jaups^ up to the pouring skies. 

15 The last line is in itself a Poussin*-picture of that 
Deluge ! The welkin has^ as it were^ bent down 
with its weight; the ^^gnmlie janps'^ and the "pouring 
skies'^ are mingled together ; it is a world of rain and . 
ruin. — In respect of mere clearness and minute 

20 fidelity the Farmer's commendation of his "Auld 
Mare/'* in plow or in cart^ may vie with Homer's 
Smithy of the CyclopS;, or yoking of Priam's Chariot. 
'Not have we forgotten stout "Burn-the-Wind"* and 
his brawny customers, inspired by "Scotch Drink"; 

25 but it is needless to multiply examples. One other 
trait of a much finer sort we select from multitudes 
of such among his Songs. It gives, in a single line, 
to the saddest feeling the saddest environment and 
local habitation : 

30 The pale Moon i^ setting* heyond the ivhite icave. 

And Time is setting ivi' me, 0; 
Farewell, false friends! false lover, farewell! 
I'll nae mair trouble them nor thee, O. 

This clearness of sight we have called the founda- 
astion of all talent; for, in fact, unless we see our ob- 



1. Thowes. Thaws. 4. Glenbuck. Rottonkey. The source 

2. Snaw-broo rowes. Melted snow of the Ayr, rnd a small landing j 
rolls. pin re ^bove the brge auay. 

3. Speat. Flood. 5. Gumlie jaups. Mu,ddy splashes. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 255 

ject, how shall we know how to place or prize it, in 
our understanding, our imagination, our affections? 
Yet it is not in itself, perhaps, a very high excellence ; 
but capable of being united indifferently with the 
5 strongest, or with ordinary powers. Homer surpasses 
all men in this quality; but strangely enough, at no 
great distance below him are Eichardson and Defoe.* 
It belongs, in truth, to what is called a lively mind ; 
and gives no sure indication of the higher endow- 

10 ments that may exist along with it. In all the three 
cases we have mentioned, it is combined with great 
garrulity; their descriptions are detailed, ample, and 
lovingly exact; Homer's fire bursts through, from 
time to time, as if by accident; but Defoe and 

15 Richardson have no fire. Burns, again, is not more 
distinguished by the clearness than by the impetuous 
force of his conceptions. Of the strength, the pierc- 
ing emphasis with which he thought, his emphasis of 
expression may give a humble but the readiest proof. 

20^^Tio ever uttered sharper sayings than his, words 
more memorable, now by their burning vehemence, 
now by their cool vigor and laconic pith? A single 
phrase depicts a whole subject, a whole scene. We 
hear of "a gentleman that derived* his patent of 

25 nobility direct from Almighty God.'' Our Scottish 
forefathers in the battlefield struggled forward, he 
says, "red-wat-shod/'* giving in this one word a full 
vision of horror and carnage, perhaps too frightfully 
accurate for Art ! 

30 In fact, one of the leading features in the mind of 
Burns is this vigor of his strictly intellectual percep- 
tions. A resolute force is ever visible in his judg- 
ments, and in his feelings and volitions. Professor 
Stewart* says of him, with some surprise : ^^All the 

36 faculties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could 



256 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

judge, equally vigorous; and his predilection for 
poetry was rather the result of his own enthusiastic 
and impassioned temper than of a genius exclusively 
adapted to that species of composition. From his 
6 conversation I should have pronounced him to be 
fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had 
chosen to exert his abilities/^ But this, if we mis- 
take not, is at all times the very essence of a truly 
poetical endowment. Poetry, except in such cases as 

10 that of Keats,* where the whole consists in a weak- 
eyed, maudlin sensibility, and a certain vague, random 
tunefulness of nature, is no separate faculty, no organ 
which can be superadded to the rest, or disjoined from 
them ; but rather the result of their general harmony 

15 and completion. The feelings, the gifts, that exist 
in the Poet are those that exist, with more or less de- 
velopment, in every human soul; the imagination 
which shudders at the Hell of Dante "is the same 
faculty, weaker in degree, which called that picture 

20 into being. How does the Poet speak to men with 
power, but by being still more a man than they*^ 
Shakespeare, it has been well observed, in the planning 
and completing of his tragedies, has shown an Under- 
standing, were it nothing more, which might have 

25governed states, or indited a Novum Organum,^ What 
Burns's force of understanding may have been we 
have less means of judging; it had to dwell among 
the humblest objects; never saw Philosophy; never 
rose, except by natural effort and for short intervals, 

30 into the region of great ideas. Nevertheless, suffi- 
cient indication, if no proof sufficient, remains for 
us in his works; we discern the brawny movements 
of a gigantic though untutored strength; and can 
understand how, in conversation, his quick, sure 

36 insight into men and things may, as much as aught 



9 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 257 

else about him, have amazed the best thinkers of his 
time and country. 

But, unless we mistake, the intellectual gift of 
Burns is fine as well as strong. The more delicate 

5 relations of things could not well have escaped his 
eye, for they were intimately present to his heart. 
The logic of the senate and the forum is indispensable, 
but not all-sufficient; nay, perhaps the highest Truth 
is that which will the most certainly elude it. For 

10 this logic works by words, and ^^the highest,^^* it has 
been said, '^cannot be expressed in words/^ We are 
not without tokens of an openness for this Jtiigher 
truth also, of a keen though uncultivated sense for it, 
having existed in Burns. Mr. Stewart, it will be re- 

ismembered, ^Venders,'' in the passage above quoted, 
that Burns had formed some distinct conception of 
the ^^doctrine of association.^^ We rather think that 
far subtler things than the doctrine of association had 
from of old been familiar to him. Here, for instance : 

20 We know nothing* [thus writes he], or next to nothing, 
of the structure of our souls; so we cannot account for 
^hose seeming caprices in them, that one should be par- 
ticularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, 
which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordi- 

25 nary impression, I have some favorite flowers in spring — 
among which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the fox- 
glove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary 
hawthorn — that I view and hang over with particular de- 
light. I never hear the loud, solitary whistle of the curlew 

30 in a summer noon, or the wild, mixing cadence of a troop of 
gray plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an 
elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. 
Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing? Are 
we a piece of machinery, which, like the ^Eolian harp, 

35 passive, takes the impression of the passing accident; or 
do these workings argue something within us above the 
trodden clod? I own myself partial to such proofs of 
those awful and important realities: a God that made all 
things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world 

40 of weal or woe beyond death and the grave. 



258 CARLYLE\S ESSAY ON BURNS 

Force and fineness of understanding are often 
spoken of as something different from general force 
and fineness of nature, as something partly inde- 
pendent of them. The necessities of language so re- 
squire it; but in truth these qualities are not distinct 
and independent; except in special cases, and from 
special causes, they ever go together. A man of 
Btrong understanding is generally a man of strong 
character; neither is delicacy in the one kind often 

10 divided from delicacy in the other. No one, at all 
events, is ignorant that in the Poetry of Bums keen- 
ness of insight keeps pace with keenness of feeling; 
that his light is not more pervading than his warmth. 
He is a man of the most impassioned temper; with 

15 passions not strong only, but noble, and of the sort 
in which great virtues and great poems take their 
rise. It is reverence, it is love toward all Nature that 
inspires 'him, that opens his eyes to its beauty, and 
makes heart and voice eloquent in its praise. There 

20 is a true, old saying, that "Love furthers knowledge"* ; 
but above all, it is the living essence of that knowl- 
edge which makes poets; the first principle of its 
existence, increase, activity. Of Burns's fervid af- 
fection, his generous all-embracing Love, we have 

25 spoken already, as of the grand distinction of his 
nature, seen equally in word and deed, in his Life and 
in his Writings. It were easy to multiply examples. 
ISTot man only, but all that environs man in the ma- 
terial and moral universe, is lovely in his sight; 

30 "the hoary hawthorn,"* the "troop of gray plover," 
the "solitary curlew," all are dear to him; all live' 
in this Earth along with him, and to all he is knit as 
in mysterious brotherhood. How touching is it, for 
instance, that, amidst the gloom of personal misery, 

35 brooding over the wintry desolation without him and 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 259 

within him, he thinks of the "oiirie cattle'^ and "silly 
sheep^' and their sufferings in the pitiless storm ! 

I thought me* on the ourie cattle, 
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 
5 O' wintry war, 

Or thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle 
Beneath a scar. 

Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing! 
That, in the merry months o' spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing. 

What comes o' thee? 
Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, 

An' close thy e'e?i 

The tenant of the mean hut^ with its ^^ragged roof 
15 and chinky wall/^ has a heart to pity even these ! 
This is worth several homilies on Mercy ; for it is the 
voice of Mercy herself. Bnrns^ indeed, lives in sym- 
pathy ; his soul rushes forth into all realms of being ; 
nothing that has existence can be indifferent to him. 
20 The very Devil* he cannot hate with right orthodox}- : 

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! 
O wad ye tak a thought and men'! 
Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — 
Still hae a stake — 
25 I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 

Ev'n for your sake! 2 

•^ 'He is the father of curses and lies/* said Dr. Slop ; 
*and is cursed and damned already/ — ^I am sorry for 
it/ quoth my uncle Toby!'^ — A Poet without Love 

30 were a physical and metaphysical impossibility. 

But has it not been said, in contradiction to thir^ 
principle, that "Indignation makes verses"* ? It has 
been so said, and is true enough ; but the contradiction 
is apparent, not real. The Indignation which make- 

35 verses is, properly speaking, an inverted Love; the 
love of some right, some worth, some goodness, belong- 

1. Seepage 162. 
:'. See page 135. 



260 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

ing to ourselves or others, which has been injured, and 
which this- tempestuous feeling issues forth to defend 
and avenge. No selfish fury of heart, existing there 
as a primary feeling, and without its opposite, ever 

5 produced much Poetry ; otherwise, we suppose, the 
Tiger were the most musical of all our choristers. 
Johnson said he loved a good hater*; by which he 
must have meant, not so much one that hated vio- 
lently, as one that hated wisely ; hated baseness from 

10 love and nobleness. However, in spite of Johnson's 
paradox, tolerable enough for once in speech, but | 
which need not have been so often adopted in print •; 
since then, we rather believe that good men deal ; 
sparingly in hatred, either wise or unwise ; nay, that 

15 a "good'' hater is still a desideratum in this world. 

The Devil, at least, who passesi for the chief and best 

of that class, is said to be nowise an amiable character. 

Of the verses which Indignation makes. Burns has 

. also given 'US specimens; and among the best that 

20 were ever given. Who will forget his ^^Dweller in 
yon dungeon dark''* ; a piece that might have been 
chanted by the Furies of ^schylus ?* The secrets of 
the infernal Pit are laid bare; a boundless, baleful 
*^^darkness visible"* ; and streaks of hell-fire quivering 

25 madly in its black, haggard bosom ! 

Dweller in yon dungeon dark, 
Hangman of creation, mark! 
Who in widow-weeds appears. 
Laden with unhonored years, 
30 Noosing with care a bursting purse, 

Baited with many a deadly curse? 

Why should we speak of ^^Scots wha hae wi' Wallace 
bled"* ; since all know of it, from the king to the $ 
meanest of his subjects? This dithyrambic was com- j 
35 posed on horseback : in riding in the middle of , 



u 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 261 

tempests, over the wildest Galloway moor, in com- 
pany with a Mr. Syme, who, observing the poet's 
looks, forbore to speak — judiciously enough, for a man 
composing "Bruce's Address'^ might be unsafe to trifle 

5 with. Doubtless this stern hymn was singing itself, 
as he formed it, through the soul of Burns; but to 
the external ear it should be sung with the throat of 
the whirlwind. So long as there is warm blood in 
the heart of Scotchman or man, it will move in fierce 

10 thrills under this war ode; the best, we believe, that 
was ever written by any pen. 

Another wild, stormful Song, that dwells in our ear 
and mind with a strange tenacity, is ^^McPherson's 
Farewell/^* Perhaps there is something in the tradi- 

istion itself that cooperates. For was not this grim 
Celt, this shaggy Northland Cacus,* that ^^ived a life 
of sturt and strife, and died by treacherie'^ — was not 
he too one of the Nimrods and Napoleons of the earth, 
in the arena of his own remote, misty glens, for want 

20 of a clearer and wider one? Nay, was there not a 
touch of grace given him? A fiber of love and soft- 
ness, of poetry itself, must have lived in his savage 
heart; for he composed that air the night before his 
execution ; on the wings of that poor melody his bet- 

25 ter soul would soar away above oblivion, pain, and all 
the ignominy and despair, which, like an avalanche, 
was hurling him to the abyss! Here, also, as at 
Thebes,* and in Pelops^ line, was material Fate 
matched against man's Free-will ; matched in bitterest 

30 though obscure duel; and the ethereal soul sank not, 
even in its blindness, without a cry which has sur- 
vived it. But who, except Burns, could have given 
words to such a soul ; words that wo never listen to 
without a strange, half-barbarous, half-poetic, fellow- 

35 feeling ? 



262 . CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, 

Sae dauntingly gaed he; 
He play'd a spring, and danced it round, 

Below the gallows-tree.i 

5 Under a lighter disguise the same principle of 
Love, which we have recognized as the great char- 
acteristic of Burns, and of all true poets, occasion- 
ally manifests itself in the shape of Humor. Every- 
where, indeed, in his sunny moods, a full, buoyant 

10 flood of mirth rolls through the mind of Burns; 
he rises to the high, and stoops to the low, and is 
brother and playmate to all JSTature. We speak not 
of his bold and often irresistible faculty of cari- 
cature; for this is Drollery rather than Humor; but 

15a much tenderer sportfulness dwells in him; and 
comes forth here and there, in evanescent and beau- 
tiful touches ; as in his ^^ Address to the Mouse,^^* or 
the "Farmer's Mare,'^ or in his "Elegy on Poor 
Mailie,^^ which last may be reckoned his happiest 

20 effort of this kind. In these pieces there are traits 
of a Humor as fine as that of Sterne; yet altogether 
different, original, peculiar — the Humor of Burns. 

Of the tenderness, the playful pathos, and many 
other kindred qualities of Burns's Poetry, much more 

25 might be said ; but now, with these poor outlines of 
a sketch, we must prepare to quit this part of our 
subject. To speak of his individual Writings, ade- 
quately and with any detail, would lead us far beyond 
our limits. As already hinted, we can look on but 

30 few of these pieces as, in strict critical language, de- 
serving the name of Poems; they are rimed elo- 
quence, rimed pathos, rimed sense ; yet seldom essen- 
tially melodious, aerial, poetical. "Tarn o' Shanter"* 
itself, which enjoys so high a favor, does not appear 

1. See page 194. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 263 

to us at all decisively to come under this last 
category. It is not so much a poem as a piece of 
sparkling rhetoric; the heart and body of the story 
still lies hard and dead. He has not gone back, 

5 much less carried us back, into that dark, earnest, 
wondering age when the tradition was believed and 
when it took its rise ; he does not attempt, by any 
new-modeling of his supernatural ware, to strike 
anew that deep, mysterious chord of human nature 

10 which once responded to such things; and which 
lives in us too, and will forever live, though silent 
now, or vibrating with far other notes, and to far 
different issues. Our German readers will under- 
stand us, when we say that he is not the Tieck but 

15 the Musaus* of this tale. Externally it is all green and 
living; yet look closer, it is no firm growth, but only 
ivy on a rock. The piece does not properly cohere; 
the strange chasm which yawns in our incredulous 
imaginations between the Ayr public-house and the 

20 gate of Tophet, is nowhere bridged over, nay, the 
idea of such a bridge is laughed at; and thus the 
Tragedy of the adventure becomes a mere drunken 
phantasmagoria, or many-colored spectrum painted 
on ale-vapors, and the Farce alone has any reality. 

25 We do not say that Burns should have made much 
more of this tradition; we rather think that, for 
strictly poetical purposes, not much was to be made 
of it. jSTeither are we blind to the deep, varied, 
genial power displayed in what he has actually ac- 

30 complished ; but we find far more "Shakespearean" 
qualities,* as these of "Tam o' Shanter'^ have been 
fondly named, in many of his other pieces; nay, we 
incline to believe that this latter might have been 
written, all but quite as well, by a man who, in place 

35 of genius, had only possessed talent. 



264 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

Perhaps we may venture to say that the most 
strictly poetical of all his ^^poems'^* is one which does 
not appear in Currie's Edition; but has been often 
printed before and since, under the humble title of 
5 "The Jolly Beggars/^* The subject truly is among 
the lowest in Nature ; but it only the more shows oui* 
Poet's gift in raising it into the domain of Art. To 
our minds, this piece seems thoroughly compacted, 
melted together, refined; and poured forth in one 

10 flood of true liquid harmony. It is light, airy, soft 
of movement; yet sharp and precise in its details: 
every face is a portrait; that "raucle carlin/' that 
"^Vee Apollo/' that "son of Mars/' a;re Scottish, yet 
ideal; the scene is at once a dream, and the very 

isEagcastle of "Poosie ISTansie.'' Further, it seems in 
a considerable degree complete, a real self-support- 
ing Whole, which is the highest merit in a poem. The 
blanket of the Kight is drawn asunder for a mo- 
ment; in full, ruddy, flaming light, these rough tat- 

20 terdemalions are seen in their boisterous revel; for 
the strong pulse of Life vindicates its right to glad- 
ness even here; and when the curtain closes, we pro- 
long the action without effort; the next day as the 
last, our ^^Caird" and our ^^Balladmonger" are singing 

25 and soldiering ; their ^^'brats and callets" are hawking, 
begging, cheating ; and some other night, in new com- 
binations, they will wring from Fate another hour 
of wassail and good cheer. Apart from the universal 
sympathy with man which this again bespeaks in 

30 Burns, a genuine inspiration and no inconsiderable 
technical talent are manifested here. There is the 
fidelity, humor, warm life, and accurate painting and 
grouping of some Teniers,* for whom hostlers and 
carousing peasants are not without significance. It 

35 would be strange, doubtless, to call this the best of 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 265 

Burns's writings ; we mean to say only that it seems to 
us the most perfect of its kind, as a piece of poetical 
composition, strictly so called. In the "Beggar's 
Opera/^* in the "Beggar's Bush/' as other critics have 

5 already remarked, there is nothing which, in real 
poetic vigor, equals this Cantata; nothing, as we 
think, which comes within many degrees of it. 

But by far the most finished, complete, and truly 
inspired pieces of Burns are, without dispute, to be 

10 found among his Songs. It is here that, although 
through a small aperture, his light shines with least 
obstruction in its highest beauty, and pure, sunny 
clearness. The reason may be that Song is a brief, 
simple species of composition; and requires nothing 

15 so much for its perfection as genuine poetic feeling, 
genuine music of heart. Yet the Song has its rules 
equally with the Tragedy — rules which in most cases 
are poorly fulfilled, in many cases are not so much as 
felt. We might write a long essay on the Songs of 

20 Burns ; which we reckon by far the best that Britain 
has yet produced ; for, indeed, since the era of Queen 
Elizabeth, we know not that, by any other hand, aught 
truly worth attention has been accomplished in this 
department. True, we have songs enough "by per- 

25 sons of quality''*; we have tawdry, hollow, wine-bred 
madrigals; many a rimed speech "in the flowing and 
watery vein of Ossorius,* the Portugal Bishop," rich 
in sonorous words, and, for moral, dashed perhaps 
with some tint of a sentimental sensuality ; all which 

30 many persons cease not from endeavoring to sing; 
though for most part, we fear, the music is but from 
the throat outward, or at best from some region far 
enough short of the Soul; not in which, but in a 
certain inane Limbo of the Fancy, or even in some 

35 vaporous debatable-land on the outskirts of the Nerv- 



266 CAKLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

ous System, most of such madrigals and rimed 
speeches seem to have originated. 

With the songs of Burns we must not name these 
things. Independently of the clear, manly, heart- 
5 felt sentiment that ever pervades his poetry, his 
Songs are honest in another point of view — in 
form, as well as in spirit. They do not ajfect to be 
set to music, but they actually and in themselves 
are music; they have received their life, and fash- 

loioned themselves together, in the medium of Har- 
mony, as Venus rose from the bosom of the sea. 
The story, the feeling is not detailed, but suggested; 
not said, or spouted, in rhetorical completeness and 
coherence; but sung, in fitful gushes, in glowing 

15 hints, in fantastic breaks, in warllings not of the 
voice only, but of the whole mind. We consider this 
to be the essence of a song; and that no songs since 
the. little careless catches, and, as it were, drops of 
song, which Shakespeare has here and there sprinkled 

20 over his plays, fulfill this condition in nearly the 
same degree as most of Burns's do. Such grace and 
truth of external movement, too, presupposes in gen- 
eral a corresponding force and truth of sentiment and 
inward meaning. The songs of Burns are not more 

25 perfect in the former quality than in the latter. With 
what tenderness he sings, yet with what vehemence 
and entireness ! There is a piercing wail in his sor- 
row, the purest rapture in his joy; he burns with 
the sternest ire, or laughs with the loudest or slyest 

30 mirth ; and yet he is sweet and soft, ^^sweet as the 
smile when fond lovers meet, and soft as their part- 
ing tear.^^ If we further take into account the im- 
mense variety of his subiects ; how, from the loud, 
flowing revel in ^^Willie Brewed a Peck o' Maut,^'* 

35 to the still, rapt enthusiasm of sadness for "Mary in 



CARLYLP:'S essay on burns 2G7 

Heaven'^* ; from the glad, kind greeting of '^Auld Lang 
Syne/^ or the comic archness of "Duncan Gray/^ to 
the fire-eyed fury of "Scots Wha Hae wi' Wallace 
Bled/^* he has found a tone and words for every mood 
5 of man^s heart — it will seem small praise if we rank 
him as the first of all our Song-writers ; for we know 
not where to find one worthy of being second to him. 
It is on "his Songs, as we believe, that Burns's 
chief influence as an author will ultimately be found 

10 to depend; nor, if our Fletcher^s aphorism* is true, 
shall we account this a small influence. ^^Let me 
make the songs of a people/^ said he, "and you shall 
make its laws:" Surely, if ever any Poet might have 
equaled himself with Legislators on this ground, it 

15 was Burns. His Songs are already part of the 
mother tongue, not of Scotland only, but of Britain, 
and of the millions that in all ends of the earth speak 
a British language. In hut and hall, as the heart 
unfolds itself in many-colored joy and woe of ex- 

2oistence, the name, the voice of that joy and that woe, 
is the name and voice which Burns has given them. 
Strictly speaking, perhaps no British man has so 
deeply affected the thoughts and feelings of so many 
men as this solitary and altogether private individual, 

25 with means apparently the humblest. 

In another point of view, moreover, we incline 
to think that Burns's influence may have been con- 
siderable; we mean, as exerted specially on the Litera- 
ture of his country, at least on the Literature of 

30 Scotland. Among the great changes which British, 
particularly Scottish, literature has undergone since 
that period-, one of the greatest will be found to con- 
sist in its remarkable increase of nationality. Even 
the English writers, most popular in Burns's time, 

^•"^were little distinguished for their literary patriotism. 



268 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

in this, its best sense. A certain attenuated cosmo- 
politanism haxi, in good measure^ taken place of the 
old insular home-feeling; literature was, as it were, 
without any local environment; was not nourished 
5 by the affections which spring from a native soil. 
Our Grays and Glovers* seemed to write almost as if 
in vacuo; the thing written bears no mark of place; 
it is not written so much for Englishmen, as for 
men; or rather, which is the inevitable result of this, 

10 for certain Generalizations which philosophy termed 
men. Goldsmith is an exception; not so Johnson; 
the scene of his Rambler^ is little more English than 
that of his Rasselas, 

But if such was in some degree the case with Eng- 

15 land, it was, in the highest degree, the case with Scot- 
land. In fact, our Scottish literature had, at that 
period, a very singular aspect ; unexampled, so far as 
we know, except perhaps at Geneva,* where the same 
state of matters appears still to continue. For a 

20 long period after Scotland became British we had no 
literature; at the date when Addison and Steele were 
writing their Spectators, our good John Boston* was 
writing, with the noblest intent, but alike in defiance 
of grammar and philosophy, his Fourfold State of 

25 Man, Then came the schisms in our National 
Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body Politic : 
Theologic ink, and Jacobite blood, with gall enough 
jn both cases, seemed to have blotted out the in- 
tellect of the country; however, it was only ob- 

soscured, not obliterated. Lord Kames* made nearly 
the first attempt, and a tolerably clumsy one, at 
writing English; and ere long, Hume, Eobertson, 
Smith,* and a whole host of followers, attracted hither 
the eyes of all Europe. And yet in this brilliant 

35 resuscitation of our ^^fervid genius,^^* there was noth- 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY 01s BURNS 269 

ing truly Scottish, nothing indigenous, except, per- 
haps, the natural impetuosity of intellect, which we 
sometimes claim, and are sometimes upbraided with, 
as a characteristic of our nation. It is curious to 
5 remark that Scotland, so full of writers, had no Scot- 
tish culture, nor indeed any English; our culture 
was almost exclusively French. It was by studying 
Racine and Voltaire, Batteux and Boileau, that 
Kames had trained himself to be a critic and phi- 

10 losopher ; it was the light of Montesquieu and Mably 
that guided Robertson in his political speculations; 
Quesnay's lamp that kindled the lamp of Adam 
Smith. Hume was too rich a man to borrow; and 
perhaps he reacted on the French more than he was 

15 acted 'on by them ; but neither had he aught to do 
with Scotland ; Edinburgh, equally with La Fleche,* 
was but the lodging and laboratory in which he not 
so much morally lived as metaphysically investigated. 
^ever, perhaps, was there a class of writers, so clear 

20 and well-ordered, yet so totally destitute, to all ap- 
pearance, of any patriotic affection, nay, of any 
human affection whatever. The French wits of the 
period were as unpatriotic; but their general de- 
ficiency in moral principle,- not to say their avowed 

25 sensuality and unbelief in all virtue, strictly so called, 
render this accountable enough. We hope therci 
is a patriotism founded on something better than 
prejudice; that our country may be dear to us with- 
out injury to our philosophy; that in loving and 

30 justly prizing all other lands we may prize justly, 
and yet love before all others, our own stern Mother- 
land, and the venerable Structure of social and moral 
Life, which Mind has through long ages been building 
up for us there. Surely there is nourishment for the 

•^•'^ better part of man's heart in all this; surely the roots 



270 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

that have fixed themselves in tlie very core of man^s 
being may be so cultivated as to grow up not into 
briers, but into roses, in the field of his life! Our 
Scottish sages have no such propensities; the field 
5 of their life shows neither briers nor roses; but only 
a flat, continuous threshing-floor for Logic, whereon 
all questions, from the ^^Doctrine of Eent'^^ to the 
"Natural History of Eeligion,^^ are threshed and 
sifted with the same mechanical impartiality ! 

10 With Sir Walter Scott at the head of our literature 
it cannot be denied that much of this evil is past, 
or rapidly passing away; our chief literary men, 
whatever other faults they may have, no longer live 
among us like a French Colony, or some knot of 

15 Propaganda Missionaries; but lik^ natural-born sub- 
jects of the soil, partaking and sympathizing in all 
our attachments, humors, and habits. Our literature 
no longer grows in water but in mold, and with the 
true, racy virtues of the soil and climate. How much 

20 of this change may be due to Burns, oi to any other 
individual, it might be difficult to estimate. Direct 
literary imitation of Burns was not to be looked for. 
But his example, in the fearless adoption of domestic 
subjects, could not but operate from afar; and cer- 

25tainly in no heart did the love of country ever burn 
with a warmer glow than in that of Burns ; '' a tide of 
Scottish prejudice,^^* as he modestly calls this deep 
and generous feeling, "had been poured along his 
veins; and he felt that it would, boil there till the 

30 flood-gates shut in eternal rest.^^ It seemed to him 
as if he could do so little for his country and yet 
would so gladly have done all. One small province 
stood open for him — that of Scottish Song ; and how 
eagerly he entered on it; how devotedly he labored 

35 there! In his toilsome journeyings this object never 



CArXYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 271 

quits him; it is the little happy- valley of his care- 
worn heart. In the gloom of his own affliction he 
eagerly searches after some lonely brother of the 
muse, and rejoices to snatch one other name from 
5 the oblivion that was covering it! These were early 
f eelingS;, and they abode with him to the end : 

... a wish* (I mind its pow'r), 
A wish that to my latest hour 

Shall strongly heave my breast, 
10 That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, 

Some usefu* plan or book could make, 

Or sing a sang at least. 
The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide 
Amang.the bearded bear, 
15 1 turned the weeder-clips aside, 

An' spar'd the symbol dear.i 

But to leave the mere literary character of Burns, 
which has already detained us too long. Far more 
interesting than any of his written works, as it ap- 

20 pears to us, are his acted ones — the Life he willed 
and was fated to lead among his fellow-men. These 
Poems are but like little rimed fragments scattered 
here and there in the grand, unrimed Eomance of his 
earthly existence ; and it is only when intercalated in 

25 this at their proper places that they attain their full 
measure of significance. And this too, alas, was but 
a fragment ! The plan of a mighty edifice had been 
sketched; some columns, porticos, firm masses of 
building stand completed; the rest more or less 

30 clearly indicated; with many a far-stretching tend- 
ency, which only studious and friendly eyes can now 
trace toward the purposed termination. For the 
work is broken off in the middle — almost in the be- 
ginning — and rises among us, beautiful and sad, at 

^5 once unfinished and a ruin! If charitable judgment 

1. See page 165. 



272 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

was necessary in estimating his Poems^ and justice 
required that the aim and the manifest power to ful- 
1511 it must often be accepted for the fulfillment ; much 
more is this the case in regard to his Life, the stim - 

sand result of all his endeavors, where his diflBculties I 
came upon him not in detail onl)^, but in mass; and 
so much has been left unaccomplished, nay, was mis- 
taken, and altogether marred. 

Properly speaking, there is but one era in the life 

10 of Burns, and that the earliest. We have not youth 
and manhood, but only youth; for to the end we 
discern no decisive change in the complexion of his 
character; in his thirty-seventh year he is still, as it 
were, in youth. With all that resoluteness of judg- 

15 men t, that penetrating insight, and singular matu- 

*rity of intellectual power exhibited in his writings, 

he never attains to any clearness regarding himself; 

to the last, he never ascertains his peculiar aim, even 

with such distinctness as is common among ordinary 

20 men; and therefore never can pursue it with that 
singleness of will wliich insures success and some 
contentment to such men. To the last he wavers 
between two purposes : glorying in his talent, like a 
true poet, he yet cannot consent to make this liis 

25 chief and sole glory, and to follow it as the one thing 
needful, through poverty or riches, through good or 
evil report. Another far meaner ambition still 
cleaves to him; he must dream and struggle about a 
certain ^Tlock of Independence^^* ; which, natural and 

20 even admirable as it might be, was still but a warring 
with the world, on the comparatively insignificant 
.irround of his being more completely or less com- 
pletely supplied with money than others; of his 
standing at a liigher or at a lower altitude in gen- 

Socral estimation than other>. For the world still 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 273 

appears to him, as to the young, in borrowed colors ; 
he expects from it what it cannot give to any man; 
geeks for contentment, not within himself, in action 
and wise effort, but from without, in the kindness 
5 of circumstances, in love, friendship, honor, pecuniary 
ease. He would be happy, not actively and in himself, 
but passively and from some ideal cornucopia of En- 
joyments, not earned by his own labor but show- 
ered on him by the beneficence of Destiny. Thus, like 

10 a young man, he cannot gird himself up for any 
worthy, Avell-calculated goal, but swerves to and fro, 
between passionate hope and remorseful disappoint- 
ment; laishing onward with a deep, tempestuous force, 
he surmounts or breaks asunder many a barrier ; trav- 

15 els, nay, advances far, but advancing only under 
uncertain guidance, is ever and anon turned from his 
path; and to the last cannot reach the only true 
happiness of a man, that of clear, decided Activity 
in the sphere for which, by nature and circumstances, 

20 he has been fitted and appointed. 

We do not say these things in dispraise of Burns ; 
nay, perhaps, they but interest us the more in his 
favor. This blessing is not given soonest to the 
best; but rather, it is often the greatest minds that 

25 are latest in obtaining it; for where most is to be 
developed, most time may be required to develop it. 
A complex condition had been assigned him from 
without; as complex a condition from within; no 
'^preestablished harmony^^ existed between the clay 

30 soil of Mossgiel and the empyrean soul of Eobert 
Burns ; it was not wonderful that the adjustment be- 
tween them should have been long postponed, and his 
arm long cumbered, and liis sight confused, in so 
vast and discordant an economy as he had been ap- 

35 pointed steward over. Byron was, at his death, but 



274 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

a year younger than Burns; and through life, as it 
might have appeared, far more simply situated; yet 
in him, too, we can trace no such adjustment, no such 
moral manhood ; but, at best, and only a little before 

5 his end, the beginning of what seemed such. 

By much the most striking incident in Burns^s 
Life is his journey to Edinburgh; but perhaps a still 
more important one is his residence at Irvine, so 
early as in his twenty-third year. Hitherto his life 

10 had been poor and toilworri; but otherwise not un- 
genial, and, with all its distresses, by no means un- 
happy. In his parentage, deducting outward cir- 
cumstances, he had every reason to reckon himself 
fortunate. His father was a man of thoughtful, 

15 intense, earnest character, as the best of our peasant^ 
are; valuing knowledge, possessing some, and, what 
is far better and rarer, open-minded for more ; a man 
with a keen insight and devout heart; reverent 
toward God, friendly therefore, at once, and fearless 

20 toward all that God has made — in one word, though 
but a hard-handed peasant, a complete and fully un- 
folded Man, Such a father is seldom found in any 
rank in society; and was worth descending far in 
society to seek. Unfortunately, he was very poor; 

25 had he been even a little richer, almost never so 
little, the whole might have issued far otherwise. 
Mighty events turn on a straw; the crossing of a 
brook* decides the conquest of the world. Had this 
William Burns's small seven acres of nursery-ground 

30 anywise prospered, the boy Robert had been sent to 
school, had struggled forward, as so many weaker 
men do, to some university; come forth not as a 
rustic wonder, but as a regular, well-trained intel- 
lectual workman, and changed the whole course of 

35 British Literature — for it lay in him to have done 



CAKLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 275 

this ! But the nursery did not prosper ; poverty sank 
his whole family below the help even of our cheap 
school-system; Burns remained a hard-worked plow- 
boy, and British literature took its own course. 

5 Nevertheless, even in this rugged scene there is 
much to nourish him. If he drudges, it is with his 
brother, and for his father and mother, whom he 
loves, and would fain shield from want. Wisdom 
is not vanished from their poor hearth, nor the balm 

10 of natural feeling; the solemn words, "Let us wor- 
ship God,"* are heard there from a priest-like father ; 
if threatenings of unjust men throw mother and chil- 
dren into tears, these are tears not of grief only, but 
of holiest affection ; every heart in that humble group 

15 feels itself the closer knit to every other; in their 
hard warfare they are there together, a '^'^little band 
of brethren."* ISTeither are such tears, and the deep 
beauty that dwells in them, their only portion. Light 
visits the hearts as it does the eyes of all living; 

20 there is a force, too, in this youth, that enables him 
to trample on misfortune ; nay, to bind it under his 
feet to make him sport. For a bold, warm, buoyant 
humor of character has been given him; and so the 
thick-coming shapes of evil are welcomed with a gay, 

25 friendly irony, and in their closest pressure he bates 
no joy of heart or hope. Vague yearnings of ambi- 
tion fail not, as he grows up; dreamy fancies hang 
like cloud-cities around him ; the curtain of Existence 
is slowly rising, in many-colored splendor and gloom ; 

30 and the auroral light of first love is gilding his 
horizon, and the music of song is on his path; and 
so he walks 

in glory and in joy,* 

Behind his plow, upon the mountain side. 



276 OARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

We ourselves know from the best evidence, that up 
to this date Burns was happy; nay, that he was the 
gayest, brightest, most fantastic, fascinating being to 
be found in the world; more so even than he ever aiter- 
5 wards appeared. But now, at this early age, he quits 
the paternal roof ; goes forth into looser, louder, more 
exciting society; and becomes initiated in those dis- 
sipations, those vices, which a certain class of phi- 
losophers have asserted to be a natural preparative 

10 for entering on active life; a kind of mud-bath, in 
which the youth is, as it were, necessitated to steep 
and, we suppose, cleanse himself, before the real toga 
of Manhood can be laid on him. We shall not dispute 
much with this class of philosophers; we hope they 

15 are mistaken; for Sin and Eemorse so easily beset 
us at all stages of life, and are always such indifferent 
company, that it seems hard we should, at any stage, 
be forced and fated not only io meet but to yield 
to them, and even serve for a term in their leprous 

20 armada. We hope it is not so. Clear we are, at all 
events, it cannot be the training one receivfe in this 
Devil's service, but only our determining to desert 
from it, that fits us for true manly Action. We be- 
come men, not after we have been dissipated, and 

25 disappointed in the chase of false pleasure ; but after 
we have ascertained, in any way, what impassable bar- 
riers hem us in through this life; how mad it is to 
hope for contentment to our infinite soul from the 
gifts of this extremely finite world ; that a man must 

30 be sufficient for himself; and that for suffering and 
enduring there is no remedy but striving and doing. 
Manhood begins when we have in any way made 
truce with Necessity; begins even when we have sur- 
rendered to Necessity, as the most part only do; but 

35 begins joyfully and hopefully only when we have 



CAKi.YLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 277 

reconciled ouraelves to Necessity; and thus, in real- 
ity, triumphed over it, and felt that in JSTecessity 
we are free. Surely, such lessons as this last, which, 
in one shape or other, is the grand lesson for every 
5 mortal man, are better learned from the lips of a 
devout mother, in the looks and actions of a devout 
father, while the heart is yet soft and pliant, than 
in collision with the sharp adamant of Fate, attract- 
ing us to shipwreck us, when the heart is grown hard, 

10 and may be broken before it will become contrite. 
Had Burns continued to learn this, as he was already 
learning it, in his father^s cottage, he would have 
learned it fully, which he never did, and been saved 
many a lasting aberration, many a bitter hour and 

15 year of remorseful sorrow. 

It seems to us another circumstance of fatal im- 
port in Burns's history that at this time, too, he be- 
came involved in the religious quarrels of his dis- 
trict; that he was enlisted and feasted, as the fighting- 

20 man of the New-Light Priesthood, in their highly 
unprofitable warfare. At the tables of these free- 
minded clergy he learned much more than was need- 
ful for him. Such liberal ridicule of fanaticism 
awakened in his mind scruples about Eeligion itself, 

2.5 and a whole world of Doubts, which it required quite 
another set of conjurors than these men to exorcise. 
We do not say that such an intellect as his could 
have escaped similar doubts at some period of his 
liistory; or even that he could, at a later period, 

30 have come through them altogether victorious and 
unharmed; but it seems peculiarly unfortunate that 
this time, above all others, should have been fixed 
for the encounter. For now, with principles assailed 
by evil example from without, by "pavssions radng 

35 like demons"* from within, he had little need of 



278 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BUKiMS 

skeptical misgivings to whisper treason in the heat of 
the battle, or to cut off his retreat if he were already 
defeated. He loses his feeling of innocence; his 
mind is at variance with itself; the old divinity no 

5 longer presides there ; but wild Desires and wild Re- 
pentance alternately oppress him. Ere long, too, he 
has committed himself before the world ; his character 
for sobriety, dear to a Scottish peasant as few cor- 
rupted worldlings can even conceive, is destroyed in 

10 the eyes of men; and his only refuge consists in 
trying to disbelieve his guiltiness, and is but a refuge 
of lies. The blackest desperation now gathers over 
him, broken only by red lightnings of remorse. The 
whole fabric of his life is blasted asunder; for now 

15 not only his character, but his personal liberty, is 
to be lost ; men and Fortune are leagued for his hurt : 
^^hungry Ruin* has him in the wind.^^ He sees no es- 
cape but the saddest of all — exile from his loved 
country t6 a country in every sense inhospitable and 

20 abhorrent to him. While the ^^gloomy night is 
gathering f ast,'^* in mental storm and solitude, as well 
as in physical, he sings his wild farewell to Scotland : 

Farewell, my friends; farewell, my foes! 
My peace with these, my love with those; 
25 The bursting tears my heart declare; 

Adieu, my native banks of Ayr! 

Light breaks suddenly in on him in floods ; but still 
a false, transitory light, and no real sunshine. He is 
invited to Edinburgh ; hastens thither with anticipat- 

3oing heart; is welcomed as in a triumph, and with 
universal blandishment and acclamation; whatever is 
wisest, whatever is greatest or loveliest there gathers 
round him, to gaze on his face, to show him honor, 
sympathy, affection. Burns^s appearance among the 

35>:ages and nobles of Edinburgh must be regarded as 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 279 

one of the most singular phenomena in modern 
literature; almost like the appearance of some Na- 
poleon among the crowned sovereigns of modern 
Politics. For it is nowise as a "mockery king/'* set 
5 there by favor, transiently and for a purpose, that 
he will let himself be treated ; still less is he a mad 
Eienzi,* whose sudden elevation turns his too weak 
" head; but he stands there on his own basis — cool, 
unastonished, holding his equal rank from Nature 
10 herself; putting forth no claim which there is not 
strength in him, as well as about him, to vindicate. 
Mr. Lockhart has some forcible observations on this 
point : 

It needs no effort of imagination [says he] to conceive 

15 what the sensations of an isolated set of scholars (almost 
all either clergymen or professors) must have been in the 
presence of this big-boned, black-browed, brawny stranger, 
with his great, flashing eyes, who, having forced his way 
among them from the plow-tail at a single stride, mani- 

20 fested in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation 
a most thorough conviction that in the society of the most 
eminent men of his nation he was exactly where he w^as 
entitled to be; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting 
even an occasional symptom of being flattered by their 

25 notice; by turns calmly measured himself against the most 
cultivated understandings of his time in discussion ; over- 
powered the hons mots of the most celebrated convivialists 
by broad floods of merriment, impregnated with all the 
burning life of genius; astounded bosoms habitually en- 

30 veloped in the thricfe-piled folds of social reserve, by com- 
pelling them to tremble — nay, to tremble visibly — beneath 
the fearless touch of natural pathos; and all this without 
indicating the smallest willingness to be ranked among 
those professional ministers of excitement who are content 

35 to be paid in money and smiles for doing what the spec- 
tators and auditors would be ashamed of doing in their 
own persons, even if they had the power of doing it; and 
last, and probably worst of all, who was knowTi to be in the 
habit of enlivening societies which they would have scorned 

40 to approach, still more frequently tlian their own, with 
eloquence no loss magnificent; with wit, in all likelihood 
still more darii^r*"; often enough, as the superiors whom he 



280 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

fronted without alarm might have guessed from the begin- 
ning, and had ere long no occasion to guess, with wit pointed 
at themselves. 

The further we remove from this scene, the more 
5 singular will it seem to us; details of the exterior 
aspect of it are already full of interest. Most 
readers recollect Mr. Walker's personal interviews 
Avith Burns as among the best passages of his Nar- 
rative; a time will come when this reminiscence of 
10 Sir Walter Scott's/ slight though it iS;, will also be 
precious : 

As for Burns [writes Sir Walter], I may truly say, 
Virgilium vidi tcmtum* I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-7, 
when he came first to Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling 

15 enough to be much interested in his poetry, and would have 
given the world to know him; but I had very little ac- 
quaintance with any literary people, and still less with the 
gentry of the west country, the two sets that he most fre- 
quented. Mr. Thomas Grierson was at that time a clerk 

20 of my father's. He knew Burns, and promised to ask him 
to his lodgings to dinner, but had no opportunity to keep 
his word; otherwise I might have seen more of this dis- 
tinguished man. As it was, I saw him one day at the late 
venerable Professor Ferguson's, where there were several 

25 gentlemen of literary reputation, among whom I remember 
the celebrated Mr. Dugald Stewart. Of course, we young- 
sters sat silent, looked, and listened. The only thing I 
remember which was remarkable in Burns's manner was the 
effect produced upon him by a print of Bunbury's, repre- 

SOsenting a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting 
in misery on one side — on the other, his widow, with a 
child in her arms. These lines were written beneath : 

"Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, 
Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain ; 
35 Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew — 

The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew. 
Gave the sad presage of his future years, 
The child of misery, baptized in tears." 



Burns seemed much affected by the print, or rather by 

40 the ideas which it suggested to his mind. ' He actually shed 

tears. He asked whose the lines were; and it chanced that 



at m, 

J 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 281 

nobody but myself remembered that they occur in a half- 
forgotten poem of Langborne's called by the unpromising 
title of "The Justice of Peace." I whispered my informa- 
tion to a friend present; he mentioned it to Burns, who 
5 rewarded me with a look and a word, which, though of mere 
civility, I then received and still recollect with very great 
pjeasure. 

His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, 
not clownish; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, 

10 which received part of its effect perhaps from one's knowl- 
edge of his extraordinary talents. His features are repre- 
sented in Mr. Nasmyth's picture; but to me it conveys the 
idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I 
think his countenance was more massive than it looks in 

15 any of the portraits. I should have taken the poet, had I 
not known what he was, for a very sagacious country farmer 
of the old Scotch school, i. e., none of your modern agri- 
culturists who keep laborers for their drudgery, but the 
douce gudeman who held his own plow. There was a strong 

20 expression of sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments ; 
the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and 
temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, which 
glowed (I say literally glowed) when he spoke with feeling 
or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, 

25 though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time. 
His conversation expressed perfect self-confidence, without 
the slightest presumption. Among the men who were the 
most learned of their time and country, he expressed him- 
self with perfect firmness, but without the least intrusive 

30 forwardness ; and when he differed in opinion, he did not 
hesitate to express it firmly, yet at the same time with 
modesty. I do not remember any part of his conversa- 
tion distinctly enough to be quoted; nor did I ever see 
him again, except in the street, where he did not recognize 

35 me, as I could not expect he should. He was much caressed 
in Edinburgh; but (considering what literary emoluments 
have been since his day) the efforts made for his relief were 
extremely trifling. 

I remember, on this occasion I mention, I thought 

40 Burns's acquaintance with English poetry was rather 
limited; and also that, having twenty times the abilities 
of Allan Ramsay and of Fergusson, he talked of them with 
too much humility as his models; there was, doubtless, na- 
tional predilection in his estimate. 

45 This is all I can tell you about Burns. I have only to 
add that his dress corresponded to his manner. He was 
like a farmer dressed in his best to dine with the laird. I 
do not speak in malam partem* when I say I never saw a 



282 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

man in company with his superiors in station or informa- 
tion more perfectly free from either the reality or the 
affectation of embarrassment. I was told, but did not ob- 
serve it, that his address to females was extremely deferen- 
Stial, and always with a turn either to the pathetic or 
humorous, which engaged their attention particularly. I 
have heard the late Duchess of Gordon remark this. I do 
not know anything I can add to these recollections of forty 
years since. 

10 The conduct of Burns under this dazzling blaze 
of favor; the calm^ unaffected, manly manner in 
which he not only bore it, but estimated its value^ 
has justly been regarded as the best proof that could 
be given of his real vigor and integrity of mind. A 

15 little natural vanity, some touches of hypocritical 
modesty, some glimmerings of affectation, at least 
some fear of being thought affected, we could have 
pardoned in almost any man; but no such indication 
is to be traced here. In his unexampled situation 

20 the young peasant is not a moment perplexed; so 
many strange lights do not confuse him, do not lead 
him astray. Nevertheless, we cannot but perceive 
that this winter did him great and lasting injury. A 
somewhat clearer knowledge of men's affairs, scarcely 

25 of their characters, it did afford him; but a sharper 
feeling of Fortune's unequal arrangements in their 
social destiny it also left with him. He had seen the 
gay and gorgeous arena in which the powerful are 
bom to play their parts; nay, had himself stood in 

30 the midst of it; and he felt more bitterly than ever 
that here he was but a looker-on, and had no part or 
lot in that splendid game. From this time a jealous, 
indignant fear of social degradation takes possession 
of him; and perverts, so far as aught could pervert, 
33 his private contentment and his feelings toward his 
richer fellows. It was clear to Burns that he had 
talent enough to make a fortune, or a hundred for- 



CAELYLE'S ESSAY ON BUENS 283 

tunes, could he but have rightly willed this; it was 
clear also that he willed something far different, and 
therefore could not make one. Unhappy it was that 
he had not power to choose the one and reject the 
5 other, but must 'halt forever between two opinions, 
two objects, making hampered advancement toward 
either. But so is it with many men — we ^^long for 
the merchandise, yet would fain keep the price''; 
and so stand chaffering with Pate, in vexatious alter- 

10 cation, till the night come, and our fair is over! 

The, Edinburgh Learned of that period were in 
general more noted for clearness of head than for 
warmth of heart; with the exception of the good old 
Blacklock,* whose help was too ineffectual, scarcely 

16 one among them seems to have looked at Burns 
with any true sympathy, or indeed much otherwise 
than as at a highly curious thing. Bv the great also 
he is treated in the customary fashio ■ : entertained 
at their tables and dismissed; cert n modica of 

20 pudding and praise are, from time 1 time, gladly 
exchanged for the fascination of his j ^.sence ; which 
exchange once effected, the bargain i imished, and 
each party goes his several way. At i le end of this 
strange season Bums gloomily sums up his gains 

25 and losses, and meditates on the chac c future. In 
money he is somewhat richer; in fame and the show 
of happiness, infinitely richer; but ir the substance 
of it, as poor as ever. Nay, poorer; for his heart is 
now maddened still more with the fever of worldly 

30 Ambition; and through long years the disease will 
rack him Avith unprofitable sufferings, and weaken 
his strength for all true and nobler aims. 

What Bums was next to do or to avoid ; how a man 
fio circumstanced was now to .sniido himself toward 

35 his true advantage, might at this point of time have 



284 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

been a question for the wisest. It was a question, 
too, which apparently he was left altogether to an- 
swer for himself; of his learned or rich patrons it had 
not struck any individual to turn a thought on this 
5 so trivial matter. Without claiming for Burns the 
praise of perfect sagacity, we must say that his Excise 
and Farm scheme does not seem to us a very unrea- 
sonable one; that we should be at a loss, even now, 
to suggest one decidedly better. Certain of his ad- 

lomirers have felt scandalized at his ever resolving to 
gauge; and would have had him lie at the pool,* till 
the spirit of Patronage stirred the waters, that so^ 
with one friendly plunge, all his sorrows might be 
healed. Unwise counselors ! They know not the 

15 manner of this spirit; and how, in the lap of most 
golden dreams, a man might have happiness, were it 
not that in the interim he must die of hunger! It 
reflects credit on the manliness and sound sense of 
Burns that he felt so early on what ground he was 

20 standing; and preferred self-help, on the humblest 
scale, to dependence and inaction, though with hope 
of far more splendid possibilities. But even these 
possibilities were not rejected in his scheme: he 
might expect, if it chanced that he liad any friend, 

26 to rise, in no long period, into something even like 
opulence and leisure; while again, if it chanced that 
he had no friend, he could still live in security; and 
for the rest, he "did not intend to borrow honor 
from any profession.^'* We think, then, that his plan 

30 was honest and well-calculated: all turned on the 
execution of it. Doubtless it failed ; yet not, we be- 
lieve, from any vice inherent in itself. Nay, after* 
all, it was no failure of external means, but of in- 
ternal, that overtook Burns. His was no bankruptcy 

35 of the purse, but of the soul ; to his last day, he owed 
no man anything. 



f 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 285 

Meanwliile^ he begins well — with two good and 
^\'ise actions. His donation to his mother, munificent 
from a man whose income had lately been seven 
pounds a year^ was worthy of him, and not more than 
5 worthy. Generous also, and worthy of him, was his 
treatment of the woman whose lifers welfare now de- 
])onded on his pleasure. A friendly observer might 
have hoped serene days for him; his mind is on the 
true road to peace with itself; what clearness he still 

10 wants will be given as he proceeds ; for the best teacher 
of duties that still lie dim to us, is the Practice of 
those we see and have at hand. Had the "patrons 
of genius/^ who could give him nothing, but taken 
nothing from him, at least nothing more! The 

15 wounds of his heart would have healed; ^oilgar am- 
bition would have died away. Toil and Frugality 
would have been welcome, since Virtue dwelt with 
them; and Poetry would have shone through them as 
of old; and in her clear, ethereal light, which was his 

20 own by birthright, he might have looked down on his 
earthly destiny and all its obstructions, not with 
patience only, but with love. 

But the patrons of genius would not have it so. 
Picturesque tourists,^ all manner of fashionable 

25 danglers after literature, and, far worse, all manner 

1. There is one little sketch by certain "English gentle- 
men" of this class, which, though adopted in Currie's Nar- 
]'ative, and since then repeated in most others, we have all 
along felt an invincible disposition to regard as imaginary : 
"On a rock that projected into the stream, they saw a man 
employed in angling, of a singular appearance. He had a 
cap made of fox-skin on his head, a loose greatcoat fixed 
around him by a bell, from which depended an enormous 
Highland broad-sword. It was Burns." Now, we rather 
think, it was not Burns. For, to say nothing of the fox-skin 
cap, the loose and quite Hibernian watchcoat with the belt, 
what are we to make of this "enormous Highland broad- 
sword" depending from him? More especially, as there is 
no word of parish constables on the outlook to see whether, 
as Dennis phrases it, he had an eye to his own midriff or 
that of the public ! Burns, of all men, had the least need, 
and the least tendency, to seek for distinction either in his 
own eyes or those of others, by such poor mummeries. [The 
foregoing is Carlyle's nott\] 



286 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

of convivial Maecenases,* hovered round him in his 
retreat; and his good as well as his weak qualities 
secured them influence over him. He was flattered 
by their notice; and his warm, social nature made 
5 it impossible for him to shake them off, and hold 
on his way apart from them. These men, as we be- 
lieve, were proximately the means of his ruin. ISTot 
that they meant him any ill ; they only meant them- 
selves a little good ; if he suffered harm, let him look 

10 to it! But they wasted his precious time and his 
precious talent; they disturbed his composure, broke 
down his returning habits of temperance and assidu- 
ous, contented exertion. Their pampering was bane- 
ful to him; their cruelty, which soon followed, was 

15 equally baneful. The old grudge against Fortune^s 
inequality awoke with new bitterness in their neigh- 
borhood ; and Burns had no retreat but to the "Rock 
of Independence/^* which is but an air castle after 
all, that looks well at a distance, but will screen no 

20 one from real wind and wet. Flushed with irregular 
excitement, exasperated alternately by contempt of 
others and contempt of himself,' Burns was no longer 
regaining his peace of mind, but fast losing it for- 
ever. There was a hollowness at the heart of his life, 

25 for his conscience did not now approve what he was 
doing. 

Amid the vapors of unwise enjoyment, of bootless 
remorse, and angry discontent with Fate, his. true 
loadstar, a life of Poetry, with Poverty, nay, with 

30 Famine, if it must be so, was too often altogether 
hidden from his eyes. And yet he sailed a sea where 
^vithout some such lodestar there was no right steer- 
ing. Meteors of French Politics rise before him, but 
these were not his stars. An accident this, which 

35 hastened, but did not originate, his worst distresses. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 287 

In the mad contentions of that time he comes in 
collision with certain official Superiors; is wounded 
by them; cruelly lacerated, we should say^ could a 
dead mechanical instrument, in any case, be called 
5 cruel; and shrinks, in indignant pain, into deeper 
self -seclusion, into gloomier moodiness than ever. 
His life has now lost its unity; it is a life of frag- 
ments; led with little aim, beyond the melancholy 
one of securing its own continuance — in fits of wild, 

10 false joy when such offered, and of black despondency 
when they passed away. His character before the 
world begins to suffer; calumny is busy with him; 
for a miserable man makes more enemies than 
friends. Some faults he has fallen into, and a thou- 

15 sand misfortunes; but deep criminality is what he 
stands accused of, and they that are not without sin 
cast the first stone at him! For is he not a well- 
wisher to the French Eevolution, a Jacobin, and 
therefore in that one act guilty of all? These ac- 

20cusations, political and moral, it has since appeared, 
were false enough; but the world hesitated little to 
credit them. Nay, his convivial Maecenases them- 
selves were not the last to do it. There is reason to 
believe that, in later years, the Dumfries Aristocracy 

25 had partly withdrawn themselves from Burns, as from 
a tainted person no longer worthy of their acquaint- 
ance. That painful class, stationed in all provincial 
cities behind the outmost breastwork of Gentility, 
there to stand siege and do battle against the in- 

3otrusions of Grocerdom and Grazierdom, had actually 
seen dishonor in the society of Burns, and branded 
him with their veto; had, as we vulgarly say, cut 
him ! We find one passage in this Work of Mr. 
Tiockhart^s, which will not out of our thoughts : 



288 CAEJLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

A gentleman of that county, whose name I have already 
more than once had occasion to refer to, has often told me 
that he was seldom more grieved than when, riding into 
Dumfries one fine summer's evening about this time to at- 
5 tend a county ball, he saw Burns walking alone, on the 
shady side of the principal street of the town, while the 
opposite side was gay with successive groups of gentlemen 
and ladies, all drawn together for the festivities of the 
night, not one of whom appeared willing to recognize him. 
10 The horseman dismounted, and joined Burns, who, on hirs 
proposing to cross the street, said: "Nay, nay, my young 
friend, that's all over now," and quoted, after a pause, som»» 
verses of Lady Grizzel Baillie's pathetic ballad: 

"His bonnet stood ance fu* fair on his brow, 
15 His auld ane look'd better than mony ane'si new; 

But now he lets 't wear ony way it will hing, 
And casts himsel dowie2 upon the corn-bing.s 

0, were we young as we ance hae been, 
We suld hae been galloping down on yon green, 
20 And linking it ower the lily-white lea! 

And werena my heart lights I wad die"^ 

It was little in Burns's character to let his feelings on 
certain subjects escape in this fashion. He, immediately 
after reciting these verses, assumed the sprightliness of his 
25 most pleasing manner; and taking his young friend home 
with him, entertained him very agreeably till the hour of 
the ball arrived. 

Alas ! when we think that Burns now sleeps ^ Vhere 
bitter indignation can no longer lacerate his heart/^^ 

30 and that most of those fair dames and frizzled gen- 
tlemen already lie at his side, where the breastwork 
of gentility is quite thrown down — who would not 
sigh over the thin delusions and foolish toys that 
divide heart from heart, and make man unmerciful to 

36 his brother ! 



, 1. Mony ane*s. Many a one that is. 4. Die. Pronounced de. 

2. Dowie. S^d. 5. Ubi saeva indignatio cor ulterius 

3. Bing. Heap. nequit. Swift's epitaph. 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 289 

It was not now to be hoped that the genius of 
Burns would ever reach maturity or accomplish 
aught worthy of itself. His spirit was jarred in its 
melody; not the soft breath of natural feeling, but 
3 the rude hand of Fate, was now sweeping over the 
strings. And yet what harmony was in him, what 
music even in his discords! How the wild tones 
had a charm for the simplest and the wisest; and 
all men felt and knew that here also was one of the 

10 Gifted! "If he entered an inn* at midnight, after 
all the inmates were in bed, the news of his arrival 
circulated from the cellar to the garret; and ere ten 
minutes had elapsed, the landlord and all his guests 
were assembled !^^ Some brief, pure moments of 

15 poetic life were yet appointed him, in the compo- 
sition of his Songs. We can understand how he 
grasped at this employment; and how, too, he 
spurned all- other reward for it but what the labor 
itself brought him. For the soul of Burns, though 

20 scathed and marred, was yet living in its full moral 
strength, though sharply conscious of its errors and 
abasement; and here in his destitution and degrada- 
tion was one act of seeming nobleness and self- 
devotedness" left even for him to perform. He felt, 

25 too, that with all the "tj^oughtless follies''* that had 
"laid him low," the world was unjust and cruel to 
him ; and he silently appealed to another and calmer 
time. Not as a hired soldier, but as a patriot, would 
he strive for the glory of his country; so he cast 

30 from him the poor sixpence, a day, and served zeal- 
ously as a volunteer. Let us not grudge him this 
last luxury of his existence ; let him not have appealed 
to us in vain ! The money was not necessary to him ; 
he struggled through without it; long since, these 

35 guineas would have been gone; and now the high- 



290 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

mindedness of refusing them will plead for him in all 
hearts forever. 

We are here arrived at the crisis of Burns's life, 
for matters had now taken such a shape with him 

5 as could not long continue. If improvement was 
not to be looked for, Nature could only for a limited 
time maintain this dark" and maddening warfare 
against the world and itself. We are not medically 
informed whether any continuance of years was, at 

10 this period, probable for Burns; whether his death 
is to be looked on as in some sense an accidental 
event, or only as the natural consequence of' the 
long series of events that had preceded. The latter 
seems to be the likelier opinion; and yet it is by noj 

15 means a certain one. At all events, as we have said, 
some change could not be very distant. -Three gates 
of deliverance, it seems to us, were open for Burns 
clear poetical activity ; madness ; or death. The first, 
with longer life, was still possible, though not prob 

20 able, for physical causes were beginning to be con-; 
cerned in it; and yet Burns had an iron resolution, 
could he but have seen and felt, that not only his 
highest glory, but his first duty, and the true medi- 
cine for all his woes lay here. The second was still 

25 less probable ; for his mind was ever among the clear- 
est and firmest. So the milder third gate was opened 
for him ; and he passed, not softly, yet speedily, into^ 
that " still country where the hailstorms and fire 
showers do not reach, and the heaviest laden way-i 

3ofarer at length lays down his load! 

Contemplating this sad end of Burns, and how he 
sank unaided by any real help, uncheered by any 
wise sympathy, generous minds have sometimes 
figured to themselves, with a reproachful sorrow, 

35 that much might have been done for him; that by 



GARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 291 

counsel, true affection, and friendly ministrations, 
he might have been saved to himself and the world. 
We question whether there is not more tenderness 
of heart than soundness of judgment in these sug- 

sgestions. It seems dubious to us whether the richest, 
wisest, most benevolent individual could have lent 
Burns any effectual help. Counsel, which seldom 
profits anyone, he did not need; in his understand- 
ing, he knew the right from the wrong, as well, pei"- 

10 haps, as any man ever did; but the persuasion 
which would have availed him lies not so much in the 
head as in the heart, where no argument or expostula- 
tion could have assisted much to implant it. As to 
money again, we do not believe that this was his 

15 essential want; or well see how any private man 
could, even presupposing Burns^s consent, have be- 
stowed on him an independent fortune, with jnuch 
prospect of decisive advantage. It is a mortifying 
truth, that two men, in any rank of society, could 

20 hardly be found virtuous enough to give money, and 
to take it as a necessary gift, without injury to the 
moral entireness of one or both. But so stands the 
fact. Friendship, in the old heroic sense of that 
term, no longer exists; except in the cases of kindred 

25 or other legal affinity it is in reality no longer ex- 
pected, or recognized as a virtue among men. A 
close observer of manners* has pronounced ^Tatron- 
age,'^ that is, pecuniary or other economic further- 
ance^ to be ^*^twice cursed''; cursing him that gives, 

30 and him that takes! And thus, in regard to out- 
ward matters also it has become the rule, as in re- 
gard to inward it always was and must be the rule, 
that no one shall look for effectual help to another; 
but that each shall rest contented with what help he 

35 can afford himself. Such, we say, is the principle 



2D2 CARLYLES ESSAY ON BURNS 

of modem Honor; naturally enough growing out of 
that sentiment of Pride, which we inculcate and en- 
courage as the basis of our whole social morality. 
Many a poet has been poorer than Burns ; but no one 
5 was ever prouder; we may question whether, without 
great precautions, even a pension from Eoyalty would 
not have galled and encumbered, more than actually 
assisted him. 

Still less, therefore, are we disposed to join with 

10 another class of Burns's admirers, who accuse the 
higher ranks among us of having ruined Burns by 
their selfish neglect of him. We have already stated 
our doubts whether direct pecuniary help, had it been 
offered, would have been accepted, or could have 

15 proved very eflEectual. We shall readily admit, how- 
ever, that much was to be done for Burns ; that many 
a goisoned arrow might have been warded from his 
bosom; many an entanglement in his path cut 
asunder by the hand of the powerful; and light 

20 and heat, shed on him from high places, would have 
made his humble atmosphere more genial; and the 
softest heart then breathing might have lived and 
died with some fewer pangs. Nay, we shall grant 
further, and for Burns it is granting much, that, 

25 with all his pride, he would have thanked, even with 
exaggerated gratitude, any one who had cordially be- 
friended him; patronage, unless once cursed, needed 
]iot to have been twice so. At all events, the poor 
]}romotion he desired in his calling might have been 

30 granted; it was his own scheme, therefore likelier 
than any other to be of service. All this it might 
liave been a luxury, nay, it was a duty, for our 
nobility to have done. N"o part of all this, however, 
did any of them do; or apparently attempt, or wish 

35 to do; so nmeh is granted against them. But what 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 293 

then is the amount of their blame? Simply that 
they were men of the world, and walked by the prin- 
ciples of such men; that they treated Burns as 
other nobles and other commoners had done other 
6 poets; as the English did Shakespeare; as King 
Charles and his Cavaliers did Butler,* as King Philip 
and his Grandees did Cervantes.* Do men gather 
grapes of thorns; or -shall we cut down our thorns^' 
for yielding only a fence and haws? How, indeed, 

10 could the ^^nobility and gentry* of his native land*' 
hold out any help to this "Scottish Bard, proud of 
his name and country^'? Were the nobility and 
gentry so much as able rightly to help themselves? 
Had they not their game to preserve; their borough 

16 interests to strengthen; dinners, therefore, of vari- 
ous kinds to eat and give? Were their means more 
than adequate to all this business, or less than ade- 
quate ? Less than adequate, in general ; few of them 

' in reality were richer than Burns; many of them 

20 were poorer; for sometimes they had to wring their 
supplies, as with thumbscrews, from the hard hand, 
and, in their need of guineas, to forget their duty of 
mercy — ^which Burns was never reduced to do. Let 
us pity and forgive them. The game they preserved 

25 and shot, the dinners they ate and gave, the borough 
interests they strengthened, the little Babylons they 
severally builded by the glory of their might, are all 
melted or melting back into the primeval Chaos, as 
man's merely selfish endeavors are fated to do; and 

30 here was an action extending, in virtue of its worldly 
influence, we may say, through all time ; in virtue of 
its moral nature, beyond all time, being immortal as 
the Spirit of Goodness itself; this action was offered 
them to do, and light was not given them to do it. 

35 Let us pity and forgive them. But better than pity. 



294 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

let us go and do otherwise. Human sufferinjg did not 
end with the life of Burns; neither was the solemn 
mandate, ^T*ove one another,* bear one another^s bur- 
dens/^ given to the rich only, but to all men. True, 
5 we shall find no Burns to relieve, to assuage by our 
aid or our pity ; but celestial natures, groaning under 
the fardels of a weary life, we shall still find: and 
that wretchedness which Fate has rendered voiceless^ 
and tuneless, is not the least wretched, but the most. 

10 Still, we do not think that the blame of Burns's 
failure lies chiefly with the world. The world, it 
seems to us, treated him with more, rather than with 
less, kindness than it usually shows to such men. It 
has ever, we fear, shown but small favor to its 

15 Teachers; hunger and nakedness, perils and revilings 
the prison, the cross, the poison-chalice have, in most 
times and countries, been the market price it has 
offered for Wisdom, the welcome with which it has 
greeted those who have come to enlighten and purify 

20 Homer and Socrates, and the Christian Apostles, be- 
long to old days ; but the world's Martyrology* was 
not completed with these. Eoger Bacon and Galileo' 
languish in priestly dungeons ; Tasso* pines in the cell 
of a madhouse ; Camoens* dies begging on the streets 

25 of Lisbon. So neglected, so ^^persecuted they the 
Prophets,^'* not in Judea only, but in all places wher< 
men have been. We reckon that every poet of Burns's 
order is, or should be, a prophet and teacher to his 
age; that he has no right to expect great kindness 

30 from it, but rather is bound to do it great kindness ; 
that Burns, in particular, experienced fully the usual 
proportion of the world's goodness; and that the 
blame of his failure, as we have said, lies not chiefly 
with the world. 

35 WTiere, then, does it lie? We are forced to answer: 



CAllLVLE'S ESSAY OX BURXS 295 

With himself; it is his inward, not his outward, mis- 
fortunes that bring him to the dust. Seldom, indeed, 
is it otherwise; seldom is a life mbrally wrecked but 
the grand cause lies in some internal mal-arrango- 
sment, some want less of good fortune than of good 
guidance. Nature fashions no creature without im- 
planting in it the strength needful for its action and 
duration ; least of all does she so neglect her master- 
piece and darling, the poetic soul. Neither can we 

10 believe that it is in the power of any external cir- 
cumstances utterly to ruin the mind of a man ; nay, 
if proper wisdom be given him, even so much as to 
affect its essential health and beauty. The sternest 
sum total of all worldly misfortunes is Death; noth- 

15 ing more can lie in the cup of human woe ; yet many 
men, in all ages, have triumphed over Death, and led 
it captive, converting its physical victory into a moral 
victory for themselves, into a real and immortal con- 
secration for all that their past life had achieved. 

20 What has been done, may be done again; nay, it is 
but the degree and not the kind of such heroism that 
differs in different seasons ; for without some portion 
of this spirit, not of boisterous daring, but of silent 
fearlessness, of Self-denial in all its forms, no good 

23 man, in any scene or time, has ever attained to be 
good. 

We have already stated the error of Burns; and 
mourned over it rather than blamed it. It was 
the want of unity in his purpose, of consistency in 

30 his aims; the hapless attempt to mingle in friendly 
union the common spirit of the world with the spirit 
of poetry, which is of a far different and altogether 
irreconcilable nature. Burns was nothing wholly; 
and Burns could be nothing, no man formed as he 

35 was can be anything, by halves. The heart, not of a 



296 CAKLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

mere hot-blooded^ popular Yersemonger, or poetical 
Restaurateur,'^ but of a true Poet and Singer, worthy 
of the old, religious, heroic times, had been given him ; 
and he fell in an age, not of heroism and religion, but 
6 of skepticism, selfishness, and triviality, when true 
Nobleness was little understood, and its place sup- 
plied hy a hollow, dissocial, altogether barren and un- 
fruitful principle of Pride. The influences of that 
age, his open, kind, susceptible nature, to say jioth- 

loing of his highly untoward situation, made it more 
than usually difficult for him to cast aside, or rightlj^ 
subordinate; the better spirit that was within hinii 
ever sternly demanded its rights, its supremacy; he 
spent his life in endeavoring to reconcile these two; 

15 and lost it, as he must lose it, without reconciling 
them. 

Burns was born poor; and born also to continue 
poor, for he would not endeavor to be otherwise ; 
this it had been well could he have once for all ad- 

2omitted, and considered as finally settled. He was 
poor, truly ; but hundreds even of his own class and 
order of minds have been poorer, yet have suffered 
nothing deadly from it; nay, his own father had a 
far sorer battle with ungrateful destiny than his 

25 was ; and he did not yield to it, but died courageously 
warring, and to all moral intents prevailing, against 
it. True, Burns had little means, had even little 
time for poetry, his only real pursuit and vocation ; 
but so much the more precious was what little he had. 

30 In all these external respects his case was hard; 
but very far from the hardest. Poverty, incessant 
drudger}^, and much worse evils, it has often been 
the lot of Poets and wise men to strive Avith, and their 
glory to conquer. Locke* was banished as a traitor ; 

35 and wrote his Essay on tlie Human Undcrsfanding 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 297 

sheltering himself in ♦a Dutch garret. Was Milton 
rich* or at his ease when he composed Paradise Lost ? 
Not only low, but fallen from a height; not only 
poor, but impoverished ; in darkness and with dangers 
5 compassed round, he sang his immortal song, and 
found fit audience, though few. Did not Cervantes* 
finish his work, a maimed soldier and in prison? 
Nay, was not the Araucana,^ which Spain acknowl- 
edges as its Epic, written without even the aid of 
10 paper; on scraps of leather, as the stout fighter and 
voyager snatched any moment from that wild war- 
fare ? 

And what, then, had these men, which Burns 
wanted? Two things; both which, it seems to us, 
15 are indispensable for such men. They had a true, 
religious principle of morals; and a single, not a 
double, aim in their activity. They were not self- 
seekers and self-worshipers; but seekers and wor- 
shipers of something far better than Self. Not per- 
2osonal enjoyment was their object; but a high, heroic 
idea of Religion, of Patriotism, of heavenly Wisdom, 
in one or the other form, ever hovered before them ; 
in which cause they neither shrank from suffering, 
nor called on the earth to witness it as something 
25 wonderful ; but patiently endured, counting it blessed- 
ness enough so to spend and be spent. Thus the 
^%olden calf of Self-love,'^* however curiously carved, 
was not their Deity; but the Invisible Goodness, 
which alone is man's reasonable service. This feel- 
so ing was as a celestial fountain, whose streams re- 
freshed into gladness and beauty all the provinces of 
their otherwise too desolate existence. In a word, they 
willed one thing, to which all other things were sub- 
ordinated and made subservient; and therefore they 
35 accomplished it. The wedge will rend rocks ; but its 



298 CARLYLE\S ESSAY ON BURNS 



4 



edge must be sharp and single ; if it be double, the ^ 
wedge is bruised in pieces, and will rend nothing. 
Part of this superiority these men owed to their 
age; in which heroism and devotedness were still 
6 practiced, or at least not yet disbelieved in ; but much* 
of it likewise they owed to themselves. With Burns, 
again, it was different. His morality, in most of its 
practical points, is that of a mere worldly man ; en- 
joyment, in a finer or coarser shape, is the only' 

10 thing he longs and strives for. A noble instinct 
sometimes raises him above this; but an instinct 
only, and acting only for moments. He has no Ee- 
ligion; in the shallow age where his days were cast, 
lleligion was not discriminated from the New and 

15 Old Light forms of Eeligion; and was, with these, 
becoming obsolete in the minds of men. His heart,, 
indeed, is alive with a trembling adoration, but there 
is no temple in his understanding. He lives in dark- 
ness and in the shadow of doubt. His reli^^ion, at 

20 best, is an anxious wish; like that of Eabelais,* ^S\ 
great Perhaps.^^ 

He loved Poetry warmly, and in his hcaii; could 
he but have loved it purely, and with his whole undi- 
vided heart, it had been well. For Poetry, as Burns 

25 could have followed it, is but another form of Wis- 
dom, of Eeligion ; is itself Wisdom and Eeligion. But 
this also was denied him. His poetry is a stray, 
vagrant gleam, which will not be extinguished within 
him, yrt rises not to be the true light of his path, 

30 but is often a wildfire that misleads him. It was not 
necessary for Burns to be rich; to be, or to seem, 
"independent" ; but it was necessary for him to be at 
one with his own heart; to place what was highest in 
his nature highest also in his life: "to seek within 

35liimse]f for that consistency and sequence, which ex- 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 299 

ternal events would forever refuse him.'^ He was 
born a poet; poetry was the celestial element of his 
being, and should have been the soul of his whole 
endeavors. Lifted into that serene ether, whither 
she had wings given him to mount, he would have 
needed no other elevation; poverty, neglect, and all 
evil save the desecration of himself and his Art, were 
a small matter to him ; the pride and the passions of 
the world lay far beneath his feet; and he looked 

10 down alike on noble and slave, on prince and beggar, 
and all that wore the stamp of man, with clear recog- 
nition, with brotherly affection, with sympathy, with 
pity. N'ay, we question whether, for his culture as a 
Poet, poverty and much suffering for a season were 

15 not absolutely advantageous. Great men, in looking 
back over their lives, have testified to that effect. ^^I 
would not for much,^^ says Jean Paul,* "that I had 
been born richer.^' And yet PauFs birth was poor 

' enough; for, in another place, he adds: ^^The 

20 prisoner's allowance is bread and water; and I had 
often only the latter/' But the gold that is refined 
in the hottest furnace comes out the purest; or, as 
he has himself expressed it, "the canary-bird sings 
stveeter the longer 4t has been trained in a darkened 

25 cage.'' 

A man like Burns might have divided his hours 
between poetry and virtuous industry ; industry which 
all true feeling sanctions, nay, prescri])es, and which 
has a beauty, for that cause, beyond the pomp of 

30 thrones; but to divide his hours between poetry and' 
rich men's banquets was an ill-starred and inauspi- 
cious attempt. How could he be at ease at such ban- 
quets? What had he to do there, mingling his music 
with the coarse roar of altogether earthly voices ; 

36 brightening the thick smoke of intoxication with fire 



300 CAitLi^LE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

lent him from lieaven ? Was it his aim to e^ijoy life ? 
Tomorrow he must go drudge as an Exciseman ! We 
wonder not that Burns became moody, indignant, and 
at times an offender against certain rules of society ; 

5 but rather that he did not grow utterly frantic, and 
run amuch against them all. How could a man, so 
falsely placed, by his own or others^ fault, ever know 
contentment or peaceable diligence for an hour ? What 
he did, under such perverse guidance, and what he 

10 forbore to do, alike fill us with astonishment at the 
natural strength and worth of his character. 

Doubtless there was a remedy for this perverse- 
ness; but not in others — only in himself; least of 
all in simple increase of wealth and worldly ^^respect- 
is ability.^^ We hope we have now heard enough about 
the efficacy of wealth for poetry, and to make poets 
happy. Nay, have we not seen another instance of it 
in these very days ? Byron, a man of an endowment 
considerably less ethereal than that of Burns, is born * 

20 in the rank not of a Scottish plowman, but of an 
English peer; the highest worldly honors, the fairest 
worldly career, are his by inheritance; the richest 
harvest of fame he soon reaps, in another province, 
by his own hand. And what do^s all this avail him ? 

25 Is he happy ; is he good ; is he true ? Alas, he has a 
poef s soul, and strives toward the Infinite and the 
Eternal; and soon feels that all this is but mount- 
ing to the housetop to reach the stars ! Like Burns, 
he is only a proud man; might, like him, have 

30 ^^purchased a pocket copy* of Milton to study the 
character of Satan^' ; for Satan also is Byron's grand 
exemplar, the hero of his poetry, and the model ap- 
parently of his conduct. As in Burns's case, too, 
the celestial element will not mingle with the clay 

35 of earth : both pc^ot and man of the world he must 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY OX BURNvS 301 

not be; vulgar Ambition will not live kindly witli 
poetic Adoration; he cannot serve God and Mam- 
mon. Byron, like Burns^ is not happy ; nay, he is 
the most wretched of all men. His life is falsely 
5 arranged; the fire that is in him Ib not a strong, 
still, central fire, warming into beauty the products 
of a world; but it is the mad fire of a volcano; and 
now — we look sadly* into the ashes of a crater, which 
ere long will fill itself with snow! 

10 Byron and Burns were sent forth as missionaries 

to their generation, to teach it a higher Doctrine, a 

purer Truth ; they had a message to deliver, which left 

them no rest till it was accomplished ; in dim throes 

' of pain, this divine behest lay smoldering within 

15 them; for they knew not what it meant, and felt it 
only in mysterious anticipation ; and they had to die 
without articulately uttering it. They are in the 
camp of the Unconverted ; yet not as high messengei;s 
of rigorous though benignant truth, but as soft. 

20 flattering singers, and in pleasant fellowship will 
they live there; they are first adulated, then 
persecuted; they accomplish little for others; they 
find no peace for themselves, but only death and 
the peace of the grave. We confess, it is not 

25 without a certain mournful awe that we view the 
fate of these noble souls, so richly gifted, yet ruined 
to so little purpose with all their gifts. It seems to us 
there is a stern moral taught in this piece of history 
— twice told us in our own time ! Surely to men of 

30 like genius, if there be any such, it carries with it 
a lesson of deep, impressive significance. Surely it 
would become such a man, furnished for the highest 
of "all enterprises, that of being the Poet of his Age. 
to consider well what it is that he attempts, and in 

35 what spirit he attempts it. For the words of Milton* 



302 CAELYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 



n 



are true in all times, and were never truer than in 
this : ^^He who would write heroic poems must make^ 
his whole life a heroic poem/' If he cannot first so 
make his life, then let him hasten from this arena; 
5^ neither its lofty glories nor its fearful perils are 
for him. Let him dwindle into a modish ballad- 
monger ; let him worship and besing the idols of the 
time, and the time will not fail to reward him. If, 
indeed, he can endure to live in that capacity ! Byron 

10 and Burns could not live as idol-priests, but the fire 
of their own hearts consumed them; and better it 
was for them that they could not. For it is not in 
the favor of the great or of the small, but in a life 
of truth, and in the inexpugnable citadel of his own 

15 soul, that a Byron's or a Burns's strength must lie. 
Let the great stand aloof from him, or know how 
to reverence him. Beautiful is the union of wealth 

. with favor and furtherance for literature; like the 
costliest flower jar enclosing the loveliest amaranth. 

20 Yet let not the relation be mistaken. A true poet 
is not one whom they can hire by money or flattery to 
be a minister of their pleasures, their writer of occa- 
sional verses, their purveyor of table-wit. He cannot 
be their menial; he cannot even be their partisan. 

25 At the peril of both parties, let no such union be 
attempted! Will a Courser of the Sun work softly 
in the harness of a Dray-horse? His hoofs are of 
fire, and his path is through the heavens, bringing 
light to all lands; will he lumber on mud highways, 

30 dragging ale for earthly appetites from door to door ? 

But we must stop short in these considerations, 

which would lead us to boundless lengths. We had 

something to say on the public moral character of 

Burns; but this also we must forbear. We are far 

36 from regardin<? him as guilty before the world, as 



CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 303 

guiltier than Iho average; nay, from doubting that 
he is less guilty than one of ten thousand. Tried 
at a tribunal far more rigid than that where the 
Plebiscita"^ of eomnxon civic reputations are pro- 

snounced, he has seemed to us even there less worthy 
of blame than of pity and wonder. But the world 
is habitually unjust in its judgments of such 
men; unjust on many grounds, of which this 
one may be stated as the substance: It decides, 

10 like a court of law, by dead statutes; and not 
positively but negatively, less on what is done right 
than on what is or is not done wrong. Not the few 
inches of- deflection from the mathematical orbit, 
which are so easily measured, but the ratio of these 

15 to the whole diameter, constitutes the real aberration. 
This orbit may be a planet^s, its diameter the breadth 
of the solar system; or it may be a city hippodrome; 
nay, the circle of a ginhorse,* its diameter a score of 
feet or paces. But the inches of deflection only are 

20 measured; and it is assumed that the diameter of the 
ginhorse, and that of the planet, will yield the same 
ratio when compared with them ! Here lies the root 
of many a blind, cruel condemnation of Burnses, 
Swifts, Eousseaus, which one never listens to with 

25 approval. Granted the ship comes into harbor with 
shrouds and tackle damaged, the pilot is blame- 
worthy; he has not been all-wise and all-powerful; 
but to know how blameworthy, tell us first whether 
his voyage has been round the Globe, or only to 

30 Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs.* 

With our readers in general, with men of right 
feeling anywhere, we are not required to plead for 
Burns. In pitying admiration he lies enshrined in all 
our hearts, in a far nobler mausoleum than that one of 

35marble; neither will his Works, even as they are, pass 



I 



304 CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

away from the memory of men. ^Tiile the Shake- 
speares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through 
the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers 
and assiduous pearl-fishers on their waves, this little 

5 Valclusa Fountain* will also arrest our eye ; for this 
also is of Nature's own and most cunning workman- 
ship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full- 
gushing current, into the light of day ; and often will 
the traveler turn aside to drink of its clear waters, 

10 and muse among its rocks and pines ! 



NOTES 



POEMS 

POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY 

Page 44. The stanza of this poem was used by Burns 
more than any other form of verse and has often, since his 
day, been called the "Burns stanza." He was by no means 
the originator of it, or even the first popularizer, for it was 
also 'very common in the works of his direct models, Fergus- 
son and Ramsay, and has been found as far back as the 
works of the troubadours of the Middle Ages. Technically 
the rime-scheme is a a ah ah, the a's being lines of four 
stresses, the &'s of two. 

Page 45. Stanza VI. T^veed. A river that forms part of 
the boundary between Scotland and England. Mailie, there- 
fore, was of English breed. 

Stanza VIII. Doon, Ayr. Small rivers flowing into the 
Irish Sea; the former a few miles south of the town of Ayr, 
the latter at Ayr. 

EPISTLE TO DAVIE 

Page 49. The intricate stanza is that of a famous old 
Scottish poem of 1597, "The Cherry and the Slae" (Sloe), by 
Alexander Montgomery. The same stanza was also used by 
Thomas Howell, an obscure Elizabethan English poet, in 
"A Dream." The rime-scheme is a ah c c h de de for the main 
part of each stanza, followed by four lines of which the 
second and fourth rime, while the first and third consist 
each of an internal rime, thus: "But hanker, and canher." 
The a and c and d lines have four stresses each; the others 
three, except the lines with the internal rime. Each of these 
latter lines consists of two amphibrachs (feet consisting 
each of an accented syllable between two unaccented syl- 
lables); the met^ of the rest *of the poem is prevailingly 
iambic. 

Stanza I. Hen Lomojid* "Ben" in Scottish proper names 
means "Mount." Ben-Lomond is a famous mountain near 
Loch Lomond, in Scott's "Lady of the Lake" country — the 
southern part of the Highlands. This peak may be seen to 
the north from some parts of Ayrshire. 

Page 50. Stanza II. Burns attributed the quoted line 
(line 11) to Ramsay, but these exact words have not been 
found in Ramsay's poems, or elsewhere, though a very 
similar line has been found in several places. 

305 



306 NOTES 

Page 53. Stanza VIII. My darlingr Jean. This is the earli- 
est important reference to Jean Armour in Burns's poems; 
it was written early in their acquaintance. 

Pag-e 54. Stanza X. Notice that \%'orId's, in line 4, is met- 
rically two syllables. We very often find in Burns's poetry 
that a strongly "burred" r gives a word an extra syllable. 

Stanza XI. The famous Nine. The Muses. For PhcKbus 
and Peg-asus, see a dictionary of mythology. 



SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE 

Page 55. Stanza II. Note that bairns' bairns consists met- 
rically of four syllables, the r each time being "rolled" to 
syllabic value. 

Page 56. Stan-za IV. On Parnassus' brink. Absorbed in 
poetry; about to publish. Parnassus, a mountain ridge in 
Greece, was a haunt of Apollo and the Muses. 



EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK 

Page 58. Stanza IV. Sleele. Richard Steele, who was 
associated with Addison. The allusion here is to his senti- 
mental comedies. 

Ceattie. James Beattie, a Scottish poet and philosophical 
writer, whose most noted poem. The Minstrel (in Spenserian 
stanzas), was published in 1771-74. Although twenty-odd 
years older than Burns, Beattie survived the latter several 
years. 

3Iuirkirk. A small town on the river Ayr not far edst of 
the "Burns country." 

Stanza VI. Inverness. A city far up in the Highland.^^, 
the north of Scotland. 

Tiviotdale. A poetic name for Roxburghshire, a county 
in the south of Scotland, through which the Teviot River 
flows. 

Page 60. Stanza XII. Parnassus. The mountain of the 
Muses. • 

Stanza XIV. Allan. Allan Ramsay (see page 20). 

EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON 

Page 63. Stanza III. Allan. Allan Ramsay. 

Gilbertiield. WilUam Hamilton of Gilbertfield. The three 
earlier Scottish poets mentioned in this stanza were con- 
sidered by Burns to be his chief models. 

Page 64. Stanza IV. The allusion is to the neglect of 
Fergusson by those who might have helped him and 
prolonged his career (see page 20). 



NOTES 307 

Stanza VII. New Holland. A former name for Australia. 

Page 65. Stanza VIII. The proper names after the first 
line are those of Scottish rivers, the last four being in the 
"Burns country." 

Stanza IX. Ilissus is the small river flowing through 
Athens. • 

THE HOLY FAIR 

Page 76. The stanza of "The Holy Fair" and "Halloween" 
is important and interesting. It consists of eight lines of 
four and three accents alternating, for the most part with 
alternate rime, plus a short final line of two accents for 
each stanza. This final line is a sort of infinitely varied 
•refrain, ending with the same word throughout a poem — 
"day" in "The Holy Fair," "night" in "Halloween." The 
commonest rime-scheme for the stanza is ab ab c dc d e; the a 
and c lines having four accents, the h and d lines three ; but 
variety is introduced by occasional substitution of rime 
within the four-stress lines for rime of one such line with 
another. This variation occurs most often in the second 
quatrain of the stanza. See, for example, stanza xxi of 
"The Holy Fair": the seventh line does not rime with the 
fifth, but both the fifth and the seventh break into halves 
that rime: 

His piercin words, like Highlan' swords, 

***** 
His talk o' Hell, whare devils divell. 
It must be remembered, too, that Burns's rimes are often 
only assonances; he did not attempt to secure the exact 
correspondence of sound demanded by strict rime, as w^e now 
use the term. Thus, "in stanza vi, "hame" and **time," "clad" 
and "side," are satisfactory rimes for him. These varia- 
tions by means of internal rime or assonance, he used with 
the utmost freedom and with decided effectiveness iti avoid- 
ing monotony. 

Stanza I. Galston. The parish next north of Mauchline 
(see page 13). 

Page 79. Stanza VIIL Black-bonnet. The elder who 
received the offering. 

Stanza XII. The allusion is to the beginning of Chapter 
II of the Book of Job. 

Page 80. Stanza XV. Antonine. Marcus Aurelius, author 
of the famous Meditations. 

Page 81. Stanza XVI. The Cowgate. "A street . . . 
which faces the tent in Mauchline." (R.B.) 

Page 82. Stanza XXI. As his reason for quoting "sauls 
does harrow" Burns made reference to Shakespeare's Hamlet, 
meaning, doubtless, the speech of the Ghost, I, v, 16. 



308 NOTES 

Page 83. Stanza XXIV. The last part of the stanza 
alludes to the way in which one of the "auld g-uidmen" said 
grace. 

HALLOWEEN 

Page 85. Stanza I. C^ssilis Downans. Certain little, 
romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighborhood of the 
ancient seat of the Earls of Cassilis. (R.B.) 

The Cove. A noted cavern near Colean House, called 
the Cove of Colean; w^hich, as well as Cassilis Downans, is 
famed, in country story, for being a favorite haunt of fairies. 
(R.B.) 

Stanza H. Carriek. The ancestors of Robert Bruce, the 
famous Scottish patriot, were earls of Carriek. Carriek is 
the part of Ayrshire south of the River Doon. 

Page 86. Stanza IV. The first ceremony of Halloween 
is, pulling each a "stock** or plant of kail. They must go 
out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they 
meet with; its being big or little, straight or crooked, is 
prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all 
their spells — the husband or w^ife. If any **yird," or earth, 
stick to the root, that is "tocher,** or fortune; and the taste 
of the "custock,** that is, the heart of the stem, is indicative 
of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, 
or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the "runts,** 
are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the 
Christian names of people whom chance brings into the 
house are, according to the priority of placing the "runts,'* 
the names in question. (R.B.) 

Page 87. Stanza VII. Burning the nuts is a favorite 
charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, 
as they lay them in the fire; and according as they burn 
quietly together, or start from beside one another, the 
course and issue of the courtship will be. (R.B.) 

Page 88. Stanza X. The fause-house. When the corn 
[oats] is in a doubtful state, by being too green or wet, 
the stack-builder, by means of old timber, etc., makes a large 
apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which 
is fairest exposed to the wind; this he calls a "fause-house." 
(R.B.) 

Stanza XL And in the blue-clue throvrs then. Whoever 
would, with success, try this spell, must istrictly observe 
these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, 
darkling, throw into the "pot" a clue of blue yarn; wind 
it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards the latter 
end, something will hold the thread: demand "Wha hands?" 
i. e., who holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln- 
pot, by naming the Christian and surname of your future 
spouse. (R.B.) 



XOTES 309 

Page 89. Stanza XIII. I'll eat the apple at the glas.s. 

Take a candle and g-o alone to a looking-g-lass; eat an apple 
before it, and some traditions say you should comb your hair 
all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to he, 
will be seen in the glass, as i,f peeping over your shoulder. 
(R.B.) 

Page 90. Stanza XVI. He gat hemp-seed. Steal out, 
unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed, harrowing it 
with anything you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat, 
now and then, "Hemp-seed I saw [sow] thee. Hemp-seed 
I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true love, 
come after me and pou [pull] thee." Look over your left 
shoulder, and you wull see the appearance of the person 
invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions 
say, "Come after me and shaw thee," that is, show thyself; 
in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrow- 
ing and say, "Come after me and harrow thee." (R.B.) 

Page 91. Stanza XXI. To winn three iveehts o' naethingr. 
This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and 
alone. You go to the barn and open both doors, taking 
them off the hinges if possible; for there is danger that the 
being about to appear may shut the doors and do you some 
mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing 
the corn [oats], which in our country dialect we call a 
''wecht," and go through all the attitudes of letting down 
corn against the wind. Repeat it three times, and the third 
time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the 
windy door and out at the other, having both the figure 
in question and the appearance or retinue marking the 
employment or station in life. (R.B.) 

Page 92. §tanza XXIII. The stack he faddom't thrice. 
Take an opportunity of going (unnoticed) to a "bear-stack," 
Ihcar means barley] and fathom it three times round. The 
last fathom of the three, you will catch in your arms the ap- 
pearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. (R.B.) 

Page 93. Stanza XXIV. Whare three lairds' lands met 
at a burn. You go out, one or more (for this is a social 
spell), to a south-running spring, or rivulet, where "three 
lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt-sleeve. Go to 
bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it 
to dry. Lie awake; and, some time near midnight, an appari- 
tion having the exact figure of the grand object in ques- 
tion will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other 
side of it. (R.B.) 

Page 94. Stanza XXVII. The lu^i^ries three are ranged. 
Take three dishes, put clean water in one, foul water in 
another, and leave the third empty; blindfold a person, and 
lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged: ho (or 



:U0 ' NOTE^ 

8he) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, 
the future (husband or) wife will come to the bar of 
matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty 
dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. 
It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement 
of the dishes is altered. (R.B.) 

Stanza XXVIII. Sow'iis [sowens] were made from the 
liquor obtained by steeping grains of oats in water. When 
the liquor had soured .it was boiled to the thickness of 
porridge and eaten, commonly with milk, but on Halloween 
with butter. 

THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

Page 98. Recitativo. Stanza 1. Poosie-Naiisie was a nick- 
name for a woman named Agnes Gibson, who kept a low 
tavern in Mauchline. 

Page 99. Stanza II. The heights of AbrtVni (Abraham). 
In battle on these heights above Quebec, in 1759, the British 
captured that city from the French. 

The Moro. The castle defending the harbor of Santiago 
de Cuba, stormed by the British in 1762. 

Stanza III. Curtis. A British admiral who commanded 
at the destruction of French floating batteries at Gibraltar 
in 1782. 

Glliot. Another British leader at Gibraltar. 

Page 102. Stanza III. From TPweed to Spey. From the 
south to the north of Scotland. 

Page 103. Stanza II. Arioso. Like an air or melody 
(as distinguished from recitative). 

\V>e Apollo. The fiddler was so called because Apollo 
w^as a musician and the god of music. 

Allegretto. A moderately quick movement. 

Gigra. A jig. 

Page 107. Stanza II. Cnstalia. A fountain on the slope 
of Mount Parnassus, one of the haunts of the Muses. 

Helicon. Another Greek mountain that 'the Muses were 
said to frequent. On it were two fountains which were 
considered the sources of poetic inspiration. 

Page 108. Recitativo. Deborah was a prophetess in 
Israel who sang a famous song of triumph after victory over 
Canaan. See Jiidgcs IV and V. 



THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

Page 110. The metrical form is the Spenserian stanza, 
taken, however, not from Spenser, but from imitations by 
the English poet Shenstone (author of The Schoohnisti'css) 
and the Scotch poet Beattie (author of The Minstrel). 



NOTES 311 

Papre 114. Stanza XIII. The names of popular hymn- 
tunes are g-iven in lines 3-5. 

Stanza XIV. Burns is mentioning portions of the Old 
Testament, to be found by use of a Concordance. For the 
decree of warfare against "Amalek's progeny," see Exodus 
XVII: 16. The "royal Bard" is David. 

Page 115. Stanza XV. The allusion in the last three 
lines is to St. John and his book of Revelation. 

Stanza XVI. The quoted bit is slightly varied from a 
line in Pope's "Windsor Forest." 

Page 116. Stanza XIX. The quoted line is from Pope's 
Essay on Man, Epistle IV, line 248. 

Stanza XXI. The second line originally read: "That 
stream'd thro' great, unhappy Wallace' heart." Jt is said 
to have been changed to please Mrs. Dunlop, who was a 
descendant of Wallace, the Scottish patriot. Sir William 
Wallace (1274-1305) carried on war against the Englisli 
for several years before and after 1300. 



THE AULD FARMER'S NEW- YEAR MORNING SALUTA- 
TION TO HIS AULD MARE, MAGGIE 

Page 118. Stanza VI. Kyle-Stewart. Kyle Is the central 

division of Ayrshire, between the Doon and the Irvine rivers, 

and Kyle-Stewart is the northern part of Kyle — north of 

Ayr; the part in which Burns's homes at Lochlea and Moss- 

.^iel were situated. 



THE TWA DOGS 

Page 122. Line 2. Kinn; Coil. A legendary king who 
ruled in Kyle (see note next above). Observe that Burns 
evidently pronounced Coil as we pronounce Kyle, riming 
with isle. 

Page 125. Lines 95 ff. In his autobiographical letter to 
Dr. Mbore, written in 1787, Burns wrote thus of the latter 
part of his family's stay at Mount Oliphant: "My father's 
generous master died; the farm proved a ruinous bargain; 
and, to clench the curse, we fell into the hands of a factor, 
who sat for the picture I have drawn of one in my Tale of 
Two Dogs." 

• ADDRESS TO THE DEIL 

Page 135. Stanza XIX. I^liehael. The archangel Michael 
is meant. See Milton's Paradise Lost, Book VI, line 326. 



312 NOTES 

\ 
EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH 

Pag-e 141. Stanza XXIII. Dempster. George Dempster, 
a Scottish member of Parliament from 1762 to 1790, espe- 
cially interested in agriculture. 

Willie Pitt. The second William Pitt who was prominent 
in English politics; he was prime minister from December, 
1783, to 1801. Both he and his father, the first William Pitt, 
Earl of Chatham, were friendly to the American colonies. 
Burns suggests conferring on him the famous Order of the 
Garter. 

Page 142. Stanza XXVI. Compare this with the *'Address 
to the Unco Guid" and the "Epistle to McMath." 

Stanza XXVII. Arioso. In the manner of an elaborate air 
in song. 

Gra^ssimo.^ Very slow and solemn. 



ADDRESS OF BEELZEBUB 

Page 154. Line 13. Hancock, Franklin. John Hancock, 
first signer of the American Declaration of Independence, 
and Benjamin Franklin are meant. Burns sympathized with 
the Americans whose freedom had been so recently rec- 
ognized. He wrote an "Ode for General Washington's Birth- 
day"; and once, when a toast to the health of Pitt was 
proposed in his presence, he suggested "the health of George 
Washington, a better man.'* 

Line 16. Montgomery. General Richard Montgomery, the 
American who captured Montreal in 1775 and was killed in 
an attack on Quebec. 

Line 21. North, Sackville. Lord North, premier during 
the troubles with the American colonies and a staunch 
supporter of. the coercive policies of George III. (See 
Burke's Speech on Conciliation.) Sackville, prominent in 
George Ill's government about the same time. 

Line 23. Howes and Clintons. Viscount Howe and Sir 
Henry Clinton, British generals against the Americans. 

Page. 155. Line 44. Drury liane* A street in London in 
which there was a famous theater. At the time Burns wrote, 
this street bore a rather unsavory reputation. 

Line 58. Folycrate. Polycrates, tyrant of Samos in the 
sixth century, B.C. 

Line 60. Almagrro and Pizarro. Spanish soldiers concerned 
in the conquest of Peru. In these lines Burn§ is mention- 
ing historical examples of brutal harshness to common 
people, resembling the harshness proposed against the 
Highlanders mentioned in the heading to the poem. 



NOTES 313 

EPISTLE TO MRS. SCOTT 

Pag-e 167. Stanza V. To the nine. Probably an allusion 
to the nine Muses. 



EPISTLE TO DR. BLACKLOCK 

Pag-e 173. Stanza V. Burns is humorously alluding to 
the classical Muses, who made use of the fountain of 
Castalia. 

Page 174. Stanza X. Burns's greetings in this last stanza 
are to Dr. Blacklock's sister and his wife; but the language 
of a poultry farmer has been criticized as not in very good 
taste in view of the character of the blind poet. 



TAM O' SHANTER 

Page 180. Line 28. Kirkton Jean. Supposed to mean one 
Jean Kennedy of Kirkoswald, though the tavern kept by 
this woman was so reputable as to be sometimes called 
"the ladies' house." 

Page 181. Line 61. A relative pronoun is to be under- 
stood between snow and falls. 

Page 186. Line 206. Burns provided the following note 
lor this passage: "It is a well-known fact that witches, or 
any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any 
farther than the middle of the next running stream. It 
may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted 
traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger 
may be in his going- forward, there is much more hazard 
in turning back," 



SONGS 

MY NANIE, O 

Page 189. Line 1. Lu^ar. A small stream not far from 
Burns's home. 

GREEN GROW THE RASHES 

Page 191. Stanza IV.* Wisest man, etc. The allusion is 
to King Solomon. 



FAREWELL SONG TO THE BANKS OF AYR 

Page 193. Stanza IV. Coila. Kyle, the central district of 
Ayrshire, in which Burns lived. 



314 NOTES 

OP A' THE AIRTS THE ^IND CAN BLAW 

Pag"e 195. Stanza I. An alternative reading" of the fifth 
line, preferred by some editors, is, "There's wild-woods' 
grow, and rivers' row." In this peculiar line, gi^ow and row 
are nouns equivalent to groiving and rolling. 

•O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL, 

Page 196. Stanza I. Parnassus. The mountain of the 
Muses. 

Helicon. Another mountain frequented by the Muses, 
but Burns seems to have reference to the fountains. See 
page 107. 

AULD LANG SYNE 
Page 197. The last line of the first stanza and the first 
line of the chorus are not printed as in the best-known 
version, in which these lines read, respectively; 
And auld lang syne 

******* 

For auld lang syne, my dear. 
Burns, however, once declared the text adopted on page 
197 to be the best.' 

CARLYLE'S ESSAY ON BURNS 

Page 233. Line 3. Butler. Samuel Butler (1612-1680), 
author of Hudihras, the noted satire on the Puritans, is sup- 
posed to have died in abject poverty, neglected by King 
Charles II and his court (see page 293). Carlyle's allusion 
is to the following epigram prompted by the erection of a 
monument to Butler in Westminster Abbey in 1720: 
While Butler, needy Wretch, was yet alive 
No Generous Patron would a Dinner give. 
See him when starv'd to death and turn'd to Dust 
Presented with a monumental Bust. 
The Poet's Pate is here an Emblem show'n; 
He asked for Bread and he receiv'd a Stone. 
Line 4. Supply and demand. Carlyle 'speaks ironically 
of one of the fundamental maxims of the political economy 
of John Stuart Mill and his school.. 

Line 6. The inventor, etc. James Hargreaves, inventor 
of the spinning jenny, did in fact die in poverty, in 1778, 
though his invention was one of the most important in the 
history of modern manufacturing. 

Line 16. Brave mausoleum. Carlyle means the tomb at 
Dumfries — a structure* of Greek design, adorned with pillars 
and surmounted by a tin dome. Inside is a marble group 



XOTES 315 

representing- the genius of Scotland throwing- the mantle of 
inspiration about the figure of Burns standing beside a 
plow. 

Line 18. The street, etc. Burns Street in Dumfries, which 
while the poet lived in it was called the Mill Vennel. 

Line 22. Sixth narrative. It is not certain precisely what 
five biographies of Burns antedating Lockhart's (1828) 
Carlyle means. Lockhart at the beginning of Chapter VIII 
mentions "the four principal biographers of our poet, Heron, 
Currie, Walker, and Irving." The fifth in Carlyle's mind 
might possibly be Cromek (from whom Lockhart often 
quotes), but is probably Peterkin. In chronological order 
the books by these men are as follows: 

Heron, Robert : A Memoh^ of the Life of the Late Robert 
Burns. 1797. 

Currie, James : The Works of R.B. With an account of his 
life, etc. 1800 ; many times revised and reprinted. 

Irving, David: The Lives of the Scottish Poets. 1804. 

Cromek, R. H. : Reliques of R.B. 1808. (Not a formal 
biography, but contains much valuable biographical 
material. ) 

TValker, Josiah: An Account of the Life and Character of 
R.B. 1811. (First appeared in an edition of Burns's 
Poems.) 

Peterkin, Alexander: A Review of the Life of R.B,, etc. 1815. 

Line 32. No man . . . is a hero, etc. A proverbial 
saying in approximately the form used by Carlyle has been 
attributed to several different noted French persons — 
Madame de Sevigne, Madame Cornuel, Marshal Catinet, the 
Prince de Cond6. The idea, phrased differently has also been 
found in Montaigne and in Plutarch. 

Page 234. Line 9. Sir Thomas Lucy. Owner of an estate 
near Stratford from which, according to Shakespeare's 
earliest biographers, he and some evil companions stole 
deer. The tradition says that after Shakespeare wrote a 
satirical ballad about the case Lucy pushed the prosecution 
so far that the future poet left^ his home and went to 
London. 

Line 10. John H Combe. A wealthy wool merchant of 
Stratford, on whom Shakespeare is said to have written a 
satirical epitaph. 

Line 19. The Honorable Excise Commissioners. Burns's 
superiors during the years when he was in the revenue 
service. 

Line 20. The Caledonian Hunt. An organization of 
Scottish noblemen and gentry interested in sports, to whom 
Burns, by permission, dedicated the second edition of his 
Poems (Edinburgh, 1787). 



316 NOTES 

Line 22. Ayr Writers, . . . New and Old Light Clergy. See 

"Holy Willie's Prayer" and "The Holy Fair" (pages 68, 76). 

Pag-e 236. Line 3. Constable's Miscellany* A series of 
standard works published at popular prices by Archibald 
Constable, the noted Edinburgh publisher who founded the 
Edinburgh Review and published many of Sir Walter Scott's 
works, and whose failure in 1826 (together with the failure 
of the Ballantynes) involved Scott in a tremendous financial 
loss. 

Line 14. Morris Birkbeck. Author of Notes on a Journey 
in America, from the Coast of Virginia to the Territory of 
Illinois. London, 1818. 

Page 237. Line 29. The "nine days." An allusion to the 
common phrase "a nine days' wonder" — a prodigy that 
rouses interest for only a short time. 

Page 238. Line 7. IVo eye but his, etc. Carlyle's state- 
ments are greatly exaggerated, for Ramsay, Fergusson, and 
others had recognized the poetical value of the sort of 
material Burns used and had used forms which Burns closely 
imitated. In fact, Burns seldom wrote without ^. model 
before him, but luckily he usually managed to improve on 
his model. 

Line 34. Fergusson. Robert Fergusson (1750-1774), in 
spite of his very short life, is an important poet because of 
Burns's frank recognition of him as a master. For the ex- 
tent of Fergusson's influence, see page 20. 

Ramsay. Allan Ramsay (1686-1758) was the most famous 
Scottish poet of the eighteenth century before Burns. See 
page 20. 

Page 240. Line 4. Sir Hudson Lrowe. The British com- 
mander of St. Helena, the island in the South Atlantic where 
Napoleon Bonaparte died in 1821 after six years of exile. 

Line 5. "Amid the melancholy main." "Plac'd far amid 
the melancholy main" is a line from James Thomson's 
Castle of Indolence, Canto I, Stanza 30. 

Line 6. "Spectacle of pity and fear." An allusion to the 
explanation of tragedy id Aristotle's Poetics. By moving in 
us fear and pity, tragedy is said to purge our minds of 
those emotions. 

Line 20. "Eternal Melodies." This phrase is undoubtedly 
a translation from Carlyle's German readings. In a letter 
to Emerson (1837) he speaks of his [Emerson's] "ear for 
the ewigen Melodien, which pipe in the winds around us." 

Page 241. Line 9. The "Daisy." See page 146. 

Line 10. <nVee, coivrin, tim'rous beastie." See page 94. 

Line 17. "It raises his thoughts," etc. A slightly in- 
accurate allusion to a passage in Burns's First Common 



NOTES 317 

Place Book under the date, April, 1784, in relation to his 
short poem called "Winter, a Dirge." He is writing- of his 
pleasure in a winter walk and says: *'It is my best season 
for devotion; my mind is rapt up in a kind of enthusiasm 
to Him who, in the pompous language of Scripture, "walks 
on the wings of the wind.' '* The Biblical allusion is to 
Psahn CIV, 3. 

Page 242. Line 12. "Insolence of condescension." Carlyle's 
use of quotation marks may be due to a vague recollection 
of such sentences as this from Lockhart: "There was prob- 
ably no blast that pierced this haughty soul so sharply as 
the contumely of condescension." Elsewhere Lockhart 
speaks of Burns's "nervous intolerance of condescension." 
Line 24. "auiek to learn." From line 20 of "A Bard's 
Epitaph"; see page 154. * 

Line 30. **A soul like an JBolian harp," etc. This quota- 
tion may .be an echo from the letter of Burns to Mrs. 
Dunlop which Carlyle quotes later (page 257). The figure 
has been used by a number of British poets. 

Line 33. The world f»u|}d no fitter business. Since the 
excise scheme was Burns's own, Carlyle's sarcasm here 
seems npt entirely justified. 

Page 244. Line 21. "In homely, rustic jingle." Apparently 
a slightly inaccurate allusion to line 6 of the "Epistle to 
Davie"; see page 49. 

^ Line 25. Si vis me flere. Carlyle quotes the first few 
words of a passage from Horace's Ars Poetica, which means, 
"If you would have me weep, you yourself must first know 
sorrow." 

Page 245. Line 32. His Harolds and Giaours. An allu- 
sion to Byron's hero, Childe Harold, who is in the main a 
sort of portrait of Byron himself, and to his poem, The Giaour 
("giaour" is a Turkish name for Christian, meaning "in- 
fidel"). 

Page 247. Line 33. Mrs. Dunlop. Shortly after the 
publication of the Kilmarnock edition of Burns's poems in 
1786, Mrs. Dunlop, a wealthy woman living about fifteen 
miles from Burns's home at Mossgiel, was so delighted on 
reading "The Cotter's Saturday Night" that she immediately 
sent a messenger with a note expressing her admiration for 
the work and ordering half a dozen copies of the Poems. 
Thus began a correspondence that lasted during the re- 
mainder of Burns's life, and which contains much important 
biographical material. \ 

Page 248. Line 16. Virgins of the Sun, etc. Carlyle is 
.making a general allusion to romantic and unreal fiction, 
and poetry, dealing with remote times and peoples, such 
as Moore's Lalla Rookh, Byron's verse tales of Turkish 



318- NOTES 






setting (The Giaour, etc.), Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming 
(for the "copper-coloured Chiefs in wampum"), and possibly- 
such works of Scott as The Talisman^ or Cooper's Indian 
tales. 

Pag-e 249. Line 32. A vates (Latin) was primarily a 1 
prophet, one who foretold events, but the word came to 
mean an inspired singer — the sense in which Carlyle uses 
it here. 

Line 35. Delphi. The location of the most famous of 
Greek oracles, where future events were foretold. 

Page 250. Line 4. The Minerva Press. A London press, 
noted for turning out sentimental and trashy novels. 

Line 21. "Travels from Dan," etc. An allusion to a 
passage in Sterne's Sentimental Journey : "I pity the man 
who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, ' 'Tis all 
barren.' " The Biblical allusion is to Jiidyes XX, 1. 

Line 30. Borgia. The Borgias, Cesare and Luerezia, of 
an Italian noble family of the end of the fifteenth century, 
have been accepted as types of wickedness and are here 
contrasted with Martin Luther, the leader of the Protestant 
Reformation in Germany. 

Line 34. Mossgiel and Tarbolton. Early homes and 
haunts of Burns. 

Line 36. Crockford's. A famous gambling club-house in 
London. 

The Tuileries* A royal palace in Paris that occupied the 
present site of the Jardin des Tuileries. The name means 
tile-kilns. 

Page 251. Line 20. The "Wounded Hare." See page 171. 

Line 23. Hallovi^een. See pages 85-94. 

Line 25. Theocritus. The most famous writer of idyls 
in Greek — little pictures of real life and rustic scenes; a 
Syracusan of the third century B.C. 

Line 26. The "Holy Fair." See pages 76-84. 

Line 27. Council of Trent. Held at Trent in the Tyrol, 
1545-1563; its chief wOrk was in condemnation of the 
Protestant Reformation. 

Roman Jubilee. In the Roman Catholic church a jubilee 
is "a year in which remission from the penal consequences 
of sin is granted by the church to those who repent and 
perform certain acts." (Century Dictionary.) 

Page 253. Line 2. Retzsch. A German artist famous 
for his etchings illustrative of the works of Goethe, Schiller, 
Shakespeare, an(^ others. A burin is ah engraver's or 
etcher's tool for cutting lines in metal. 

Line 8. "Winter Night." See page 161. 

Line 31. The "Auld Brig." See Burns's poem, "The Brigs 
of Ayr," which is a discussion between the old bridge and 



NOTES 319 

the new bridge in process of erection. It is the new bridge 
of which the fall is prophesied. 

Page 254. Line 15. Poiissin. A French landscape artist 
of the seventeenth century, one of whose paintings, hanging 
in the Louvre in Paris, has for its subject The Deluge. 

Line 20. "Auld Mare*" See page 117. The passages in 
Homer mentioned by Carlyle occur in the Odyssey, Book 
IX, in Odysseus' account of his adventure with Polyphemos; 
and in the Iliad, Book XXIV, lines 265 ff. 

Line 23. "Burn-the-Wind." Burnewin (a contraction of 
the form Carlyle uses) is a blacksmith in Burns's poem 
"Scotch Drink." 

Line 30. "The pale moon is setting," etc. This stanza is 
inaccurately quoted from the song "Open the Door to Me, 
O." It should read: 

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, 

And Time Is setting with me, O! 
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair 
I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, O! 

Page 255. Line 7. Richardson and Defoe. The eighteenth 
century realistic novelists, Samuel Richardson, author of 
Clarissa Harlowe, and Daniel Defoe, author of RoMnson 
Crusoe, are here meant. 

Line 24. "A j?entleman that derived," etc. See the "Elegy 
on Captain Matthew Henderson," page 175. 

Line 27. "Red-wat-shod." See page 65. 

Line 34. Professor Stewart. Dugald Stewart, professor 
of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, 1785- 
1810, was one of the group of intellectual people who made* 
much of Burns after the appearance of his first volume of 
poems. Professor Stewart communicated vario.us notes 
regarding the poet to Dr. Currie, the first important editor 
of Burns's works, including what Carlyle quotes here. 

Page 256. Line 9. Such cases as that of Keats. This 
passage is grossly unfair and was modified when thje essay 
appeared in the Edinburgh Review; but Carlyle evidently 
maintained his prejudice against Keats, for in collecting 
his essays for separate publication he restored the sentence 
as printed. 

Line 25. Novum Or^anum. The chief philosophical work 
of Francis Bacon; written in Latin, as the title indicates. 
The title means "a new method" and refers to Bacon's 
championship of the inductive method of reasoning. 

Page 257. Line 10. "The hij^hest . . . cannot," etc. In 
Carlyle's Reminiscences he mentions this thought as from Goethe. 

Line 20. "AVe kno^v nothing::," etc. Carlyle quotes from 
M letter of Burns to Mrs. Dunlop dated "Ellisland, New-year- 
day Morning, 1789." 



320 NOTES 

Page 258. Line 20. "Love furthers knowledge*" This 
exact expression does not appear in dictionaries of quota- 
tions; but in Carlyle's essay on the death of Goethe he re- 
peated what was evidently to him a familiar idea: "Love 
is ever the beg-inning of knowledge as fife is of light." 

Line 30. "The hoary hairthorn," etc. See the passage 
quoted on page 257. 

Page 259. Line 3. "I thought me," etc. Quoted from 
"A Winter Night"; see page 161. For the "ragged roof and 
chinky wall," see line 79. 

Line 20. The very Devil, etc. See "Address to the Deil," 
page 130. 

Line 27. "He is the father," etc. The quotation is from 
Laurence Sterne's famous Tristram. Shandy. "My uncle Toby" — 
Captain Toby Shandy — is famous for his sympathy w;ith all 
creatures. 

Line 32. "Indignation makes verses." A bit of transla- 
tion from the famous Roman satirist, Juvenal (Satire I, 79) — 
Facit indignatio versum. 

Page 260. Line 7. Johnson said he loved a good haterr 
In Mrs. Piozzi*s Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson, the "famous 
lexicographer" is quoted as saying, "Dear Bathurst .... 
was a man to my very heart's content: he hated a fool, 
and he hated a rogue, and he hated a whig: he was a very 
good hater." 

Line 20. "Dweller in yon dungeon dark." The poem to 
which Carlyle gives rather grotesque over-emphasis in these 
, lines was ironically entitled "Ode, Sacred to the Mefnory of 
Mrs. Oswald of Auchencruive," and was written in 1789, 
after Burns and a friend had been driven out of an inn one 
stormy night by "the funeral pageantry of the late great 
Mrs. Oswald." Burns declared in a letter to Dr. Moore that 
the lady was detested by her tenants and servants "with 
the most heartfelt cordiality"; but "indignation" over being 
caused- a little temporary discomfort on a winter night can 
hardly justify such a poem as this about a dead lady. To 
be sure, Burns's habitual dislike of the rich and the great, 
especiallyif he had the slightest reason for considering that 
they displayed a mean spirit, is an important element of 
his "indignation" in this case; nevertheless the poem savors 
too much of petty spite to be in any way a credit. 

Line 22. The Furies of ^Eschylus. One of the important 
surviving plays of .^schylus, the first ot the great Greek 
writers of tragedy, is The Eum,enides (or Furies). 

Line 24. "Darkness visible." See Milton's Paradise Lost, 
Book I, line 63. 

Line 32. "Scots wha hae," etc. See page 219. 

Page 261. Line 13. McPherson's Farewell. See page 194. 



NOTES 321 

Line 16. Cacns. A giant son of Vulcan who stole cattle 
from Hercules (see Virgil's Aeneid^ Book VIII, lines 18 ft). 
McPherson was hanged for cattle-stealing. 
« Line 28. Thebes. The scene of some of the most im- 
portant events treated in Greek tragedy (notably the story 
of CEdipus). "Pelops' line" was the family to which 
belonged Agamemnon and Menelaus, Greek leaders in the 
Trojan War. In his phrasing Carlyle alludes to lines 99, 
100, of Milton's II Penseroso. 

Page 262. Line 17. "Address to the Mouse,'* etc. For the 
three poems here mentioned see pages 94, 117, 44. 

Line 33. Tarn o' Shanter. See pages 179-187. Subsequent 
opinion has generally disagreed with Carlyle's comparative 
depreciation of this poem, which is considered one of the 
most effective of verse tales. 

Page 263. Lines 14, 15. Tieck, Musaus« These two 
German writers of tales dealt with material from ancient 
folklore. The point of Carlyle's comparison lies in the fact 
that Tieck was considered to enter more fully into the spirit 
of the past; Musaus to be more artificial. 

Line 30. "Shakespearean" qualities. Carlyle is alluding to 
the fact that Sir Walter Scott said, in discussion of "Tarn 
o* Shanter," "No poet, with the exception of Shakespeare, 
ever possessed the power of exciting the most varied and 
discordant emotions with such rapid transitions." Lockhart 
quotes this from an article by Scott in the Quarterly Review. 

Page 264. Line 2. "Poems." Quoted for distinction from 
Songs. 

Line 5. "The Jolly Begrgars." See pages 97-109. 

Line 33. Teniers. A noted Flemish painter of the 
seventeenth century whose subjects were predominantly 
realistic interior scenes from the life of the people of 
his day. 

Page 265. Line 3. "Beggar's Opera," etc. The Beggar's 
Ortera (1728), by John Gay, and The Beggar's Bush (1622), 
by John Fletcher and others, were comedies representing 
somewhat the type of life presented by Burns in "The 
Jolly Beggars." Burns, however, is much more realistic. 
Lockhart said these two works "sink into tameness in the 
comparison" with Burns's "cantata." 

Line 24. "By persons of quality." It was a very common 
device in poetic miscellanies to print trivial songs as "by a 
person of quality." 

Line 26. "In the flowing and watery vein," etc. Carlyle 
quotes from Bacon's Advancement of Learning, Book One, IV 
(2). Jeronymo Osorio (1506-1580), bishop of Silves from 
1567, and author of a I^tin history of the reign of Emanuel 
I, King of Portugal, is the person mentioned. 



322 NOTES 

Page 266. Line 34. ♦<Willie Brew'd," etc. See page 204. 

Line 35. "Mary in Heaven." See page 201. 

Page 267. Lines 1-3. For the songs here mentioned, see 
pages 197, 214, 219, respectively. 

Line 10. Our Fletcher's aphorism. Andrew Fletcher 
(1655-1716), a Scottish politician and political writer. 
Carlyle alludes to the following passage from a letter of 
Fletcher's to a Scottish nobleman: *'I know a very wise 
man that believed that if a man were permitted to make 
all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws 
of a nation." 

Page 268. Line 6. Grays and Glovers. It is hard to see 
why Thomas Gray, author of the famous "Elegy in a 
Country Churchyard," should here be associated with 
Richard Glover, an unimportant contemporary of Gray. Per- 
haps the association is partly because of the alliteration, 
but apparently Carlyle underestimated the **Elegy." 

Line 12. Rambler, Rasselas. Dr. Johnson's Rambler was 
a publication somewhat in imitation of Addison and Steele's 
Spectator, consisting of essays on various topics of current 
interest, tales to illustrate points the author wished to make, 
etc. Rasselas was a brief "novel with a purpose," with its 
scene laid in Abyssinia. 

Line 18. Geneva. Carlyle is here alluding to the fact 
that owing to the great freedom allowed in the Swiss city 
Geneva, a great many foreign scholars and writers lived 
and wrote there. The situation, however, was not parallel 
in Edinburgh, for there the writers were natives subject to 
foreign influences. 

Line 22. Boston. Thomas (not John) Boston, a Scottish 
Presbyterian divine, published Human Nature in Its Fourfold 
State in 1720. The Spectator was several years earlier — 1711-12. 

Line 30. Lord Kames. Henry Home, Lord Kames (1696- 
1782), published Essays on the Principles of Morality and 
Natural Religion in 1751, and other works followed. 

Line 32. Hume, Robertson, Smith. David Hume (1711- 
1776), most famous for skeptical views in philosophy, author 
of a History of England and a number of religious and philo- 
sophical works; William Robertson (1721-1793), author of a 
History of Scotland and other historical works ; and Adam 
Smith (1723-1790), whose Wealth of Nations is regarded as the 
foundation of the science of political economy, are the 
authors meant here. 

Line 35. <*Fervid genius.'' An allusion to a phrase in 
Buchanan's Latin history of the Scotch attributing to this 
people a "perfervid genius." 

Page 269. Line 16. L.a Fleche. A town in France where 
Hume lived for three or four years and wrote some of his 
earlier works. 



NOTES 323 

Pag-e 270. Line 7. "Doctrine of Rent," etc. Adam Smith 
announced the "doctrine of rent"; Hume was the author of 
Natural History of Religion. 

Line 26. "A tide of Scottish prejudice," etc. From Burns' s 
autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore, written August 2, 1787. 

Page 271. Line 7. "A wish," etc. Quoted from Burns's 
**Epistle to Mrs. Scott"; see page 165. 

Page 272. Line 29. "Rock of Independence." In one Of 
Burns's letters (to Miss Davies, 1791) he says, "Ascend that 
rock. Independence." 

Page 274. Line 27. The crossing of a brook. An allusion 
to Csesar's crossing tlie Rubicon. 

Page 275. Line 10. "Let us worship God." An allusion to 
stanzas XII and XIV of "The Cotter's Saturday Night,'* 
See page 114. 

Line 16. A "little band of brethren." Possibly an allusion 
to this line from Shakespeare's Henry V: "We few, we happy 
few, we band of brothers." 

Line 33. "In glory and in joy," etc. Quoted (not quite 
accurately) from stanza seven of Wordsworth's "Resolution 
and Independence." 

Page 277. Line 34. "Passions rskgiiks like demons." An- 
other allusion to Burns's autobiographical letter to Dr. 
Moore; the passage reads: "My passions, when once lighted 
up, raged like so many devils till they got vent in rime." 

Page 278. Line 17. "Hungry Ruin," etc. Quoted by Burns 
toward the end of the autobiographical letter to Dr. Moore. 

Line 20. The "gloomy night is gathering fast." See 
page 192. 

Page 279. Line 4. A "mockery king.'^ Apparently an al- 
lusion to Shakespeare's Richard II — IV, i, 260 — "a mockery 
king of snow." 

Line 7. Rienzi. A Roman political reformer of the 
fourteenth century, who led a revolution that overthrew the 
aristocracy, but who subsequently alienated the people by 
arbitrary conduct. Bulwer Lytton has a novel on his 
career; Wagner an opera. 

Page 280. Line 10. Sir Walter Scott's. Quoted by Lock- 
hart from a letter of Scott's. 

Line 13. Virgilium vidi tantum. I have seen Virgil to 
this extent. 

Page 281. Line 48. "In malam partem." Disparagingly. 

Page 283. Line 14. Blacklock. See page 172. 

Page 284. Line 11. Lie at the pool. An allusion to the 
pool of Bethesda, John V:2 ff. 

Line 28. "Did not intend," etc. Carlyle, following Lock- 
hart, slightly twists a passage from a letter of Burns to 
Bishop Geddes, dated February 3, 1789: "There is a certain 



324 NOTES 

stigma affixed to the character of a revenue officer; but 
do not pretend to borrow honour from my profession." 

Pag"e 286. Line 1. Convivial Maecenases. An allusion to 
the famous Roman Maecenas, friend and patron of the poets 
Virgil and Horace. 

Line 17. The <*Rock of Independence.'' See note on page 
272, line 29. 

Page 289. Line 10. **If he entered an inn," etc. This is 
quoted from Lockhart. 

Line 25. "Thoughtless follies," etc. Quoted from 
Bard's Epitaph"; see page 152. 

Page 291. Line 27. A close observer of manners. Carlyle 
may have had in mind Dr. Johnson, whose famous letter to 
Lord Chesterfield is often quoted in relation to literary 
patronage. In calling patronage "twice cursed,'* Carlyle is 
parodying Portia's words (Merchant of Venice, IV, i, 186) 
to "the quality of mercy" — "It is twice blessed," etc. 

Page 293. Line 6. Butler. See page 314. 

Line 7. Cervantes. This great Spanish novelist, author 
of Don Quixote, was very poor and Tvas even imprisoned dur-« 
ing the latter part of the reign of King Philip II of Spain, 
because of debt to the government. 

Line 8. Cut dovpn our thorns^ etc. Thorns (hawthorn 
bushes or trees) are used for hedges or fences, and their 
fruit, which is useless, is haws. 

Line 10. "Nobility and gentry," etc. An allusion to the 
phrasing of Burns's dedication of the first Edinburgh edition 
of his poems "To the Noblemen and Gentlemen of the Cale- 
donian Hunt": "A Scottish Bard, proud of the name, and 
whose highest ambition is to sing in his Country's service 
-where shall he so properly look for patronage as to the 
illustrious Names of his native Land?" 

Page 294. Line 3. "Love one another," etc. Carlyle has 
put together, as if one quotation, two important elements 
of Christ's teaching; the first from John XV:12, 17, the second 
from Galatians VI : 2. 

Line 22. Roger Bacon. This English philosopher of the 
thirteenth century (1214-1294) must not be confused with 
Francis Bacon, the contemporary of Shakespeare. Roger 
Bacon was a Franciscan monk whose advanced scientific 
views caused his writings to be condemned by the Churc 
as heretical, and himself to be imprisoned. 

Galileo (1564-1642). The noted Italian physicist an< 
astronomer, who got into trouble with the Inquisition be-| 
cause of his insistence (among other heresies) that the eart 
moves. 

Line 23. Tasso (1544-1595). Italian poet, author of the' 
famous poem of the Crusades, Jerusalem Delivered. He was 



1 



NOTES 325 

confined as insane for a number of years. Carlyle was probably 
influenced, in writing as he does, by the theory adopted by 
Goethe, in his play Torquato Tasso, that the confinement of the 
poet was not because of real insanity, but because of his aspira- 
tions to the hand of the sister of the Duke of Ferrara. 

Line 24. CamoSns (1524-1580). A Portuguese poet, author 
of the Lusiad, an epic dealing chiefly with the exploits of 
Portuguese explorers (Vasco da Gama and others). 

Line 25. "Persecuted they the Prophets." See Matthew 
V: 12. 

Page 296. Line 2. Restaurateur. The keeper of a 
restaurant. 

Line 34. Locke. John Locke (1632-1704) was a refugee in 
Holland from 1683 to 1689 because he was suspected, though 
wrongly, of being involved in the conspiracy of Shaftesbury 
against the succession of James II. He was not, however, 
literally "banished as a traitor." 

Page 297. Line 1. Was Milton rich, etc. Carlyle alludes 
to Milton's blindness and to his humble and even dangerous 
position after the restoration of Charles II, because of the 
prominent position he had held as Cromwell's Latin secre- 
tary. In Paradise Lost, VII, 30, he speaks of himself as writ- 
ing for a "fit audience, though few." 

Line 6. Did not Cervantes, etc. The circumstances of the 
composition of Don Quixote are here meant See note on page 
293, line 7. 

Line 8. The Araucana. A long poem by Alonso de Ercilla 
dealing with the Spanish conquest of a portion of Chile 
called Araucania. The poet took part in the expedition. 

Line 27. The "golden calf of Self-love*" An allusion to 
the golden calf which Aaron made for the Children of 
Israel; see Exodus XXXII. 

Page 298. Line 20. Rabelais (1495-1553), though a monk, 
was a "free thinker." A familiar but unproved legend about 
him is that on his deathbed he said, "I am going to seek a 
great perhaps." 

Page 299. Line 17. Jean PauU Jean Paul Richter (1763- 
1825) was one of Carlyle's favorite authors. See pages 32 
and 33. 

Page 300. Line 30. "Purchased a pocket copy," etc. Car- 
lyle alludes here to a letter Burns wrote to his friend 
William Nicol from Mauchline, June 18, 1787. He says: "I 
have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually 
about with me, in order to study . . . that great personage, 
Satan." 

Page 301. Line 8. We look sadly, etc. Byron had been 
dead but four years when Carlyle was writing this essay. 

Line 3S. The words of Milton, etc. Carlyle alludes to a 



326 



NOTES 



passage in Milton's Apology for Smectymnuus : **I was con- 
firmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate 
of his purpose to write well hereafter in laudable things 
oug-ht himself to be a true poem . . . not presuming to 
sing high praises of heroic men . . . unless he have in' 
himself the experience and the practice of all that which is 
praiseworthy/' 

Page 303. Line 4. Plebiscita. Decisions by the common 
people. 

Line 18. Ginhorse. 
in a circle, turning a 

Line 30. Ramsgrate and the Isle of Do^s. 
short distance from London. 

Page 304. Line 5. Valclusa Fountain. A fountain at 
Vaucluse, near Avignon, in southern France. The Italian 
poet Petrarch lived at Vaucluse and celebrated the fountain 
in his poems. 



A horse that goes around and around 
"gin" — a machine or mill of some sort. 
Places only a 



APPEI^DIX 
HELPS TO STUDY 

The Life of Burns 

Make additions to the list of historical events during Burns's 
life (p. 9). With regard to English and American relations 
see particularly the Lake English Classics edition of Burke's 
Speech on Conciliation (by C. H. Ward, 1919). 

For more detailed explanation of the literary movement 
summarized briefly on pages 10 and 11, see Newcomer's Eng- 
lish Literature (pp. 217 ff.). For specimens illustrative of 
the movement and of the authors mentioned see Newcomer 
and Andrews's Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose 
and the Lake editions of English Poems (edited by Vida D. 
Scudder), The Golden Treasury, and English Popular Ballads. 

When, where, and in what condition of life was Burns born 
(p. 11) ? What parental influences are important? 

What do you find significant about Burns's education (p. 12) 
as preparation for his career as a poet? Examine Carlyle's 
statements on this matter (pp. 238, 274). 

What sort of life did Burns lead during his boyhood? Col- 
lect reflections in the poems, and in all that you learn about 
Burns, of the influences of this manner of life. 

At what age and under what inspiration did Burns first 
write poetry (p. 13)? Study the poem in question (p. 187) 
and Burns's own comments on it (pp. 165 if.). 

Where and when did Burns write most of his best poems? 
Identify in the selections the poems alluded to on page 14. 

Who was Jean Armour (p. 14) ? Examine all mention of 
licr that you find in this volume (see the Index). 

On the basis of u\\ material you can get (pp. 15, 201, 213, 
and authorities mentioned in the Bibliography, pp. 38-40), 
wliat are your own conclusions as to the dispute regarding 
"Highland Mary"? 

When and where were Burns's poems first published (p. 15) ? 

327 



328 APPENDIX 

With what success (p. 16) ? What were the principal results 
as to the main course of his life? 

Study Carlyle's discussion of Burns in Edinburgh (pp. 278 
ff.). What, on the whole, was the effect on Burns of his 
Edinburgh experience? 

What occupations did Burns attempt to combine (pp. 16, 
17)? With what success? And what final result? 

Examine in connection with the brief summary as to Burns's 
life in Dumfries (p. 17) Carlyle's more detailed discussion 
and analysis (pp. 285 ff.), and try to draw your own con- 
clusions. 

What poetical work did Burns do during his last ""years? 
Study the songs on pages 208-232 for your conclusions as to 
the quality of this work. 

When, and in what circumstances did Burns die (p. 18) ? 

BuRNs's Works in General 

Find for yourself notable examples of the chief merits of 
Burns's poetry as summarized on page 18. 

What was Matthew Arnold's main criticism of Burns? 
Specify poems that seem to you to furnish a basis for this 
criticism. How far do you agree with it? Find examples, 
also, of the good qualities that Arnold mentions (p. 19). 

The bit of quotation at the end of the paragraph on Burns's 
democracy (p. 19) is from one of Wordsworth's poems on 
Burns, which may be read with interest and profit. 

Find all the passages you can where "Burns the rebel" and 
the democrat is revealed (e.g., pp. 48, 50, 153, etc.). 

Which poems in this volume are least to be characterized as 
"mere occasional effusions" (pp. 19, 243) ? Point out some 
of the best qualities in poems that were "occasional effusions." 

What were Burns's principal models in composition (p. 20) ? 
Find all mention of these models in the selected poems. 

Into what two main divisions are Burns's poetical works 
divided (p. 20) ? Discuss the subordinate classification in- 
formally indicated on pages 20-23. 

What is it important to remember as to the manner in 
which Burns composed his songs (p. 22) ? After study of 



APPENDIX 329 

the selections — both poems and songs — in this volume, how 
far do you agree with Carlyle's comparative estimate (pp. 265- 
67 ) ? Work out carefully reasons for your conclusion. 

List the love songs in this book, and as to each one decide 
whose point of view is being presented (hints on p. 23). 

Do you find the songs really singable? Have you a favorite 
song, or a favorite stanza, among those selected? Discuss the 
choice, Avith reasons. 

Selected Poems from Burns 

The *^Mailie" poems. — Find evidences of both humor and 
sympathy in the treatment of "Mailie." Make a list of the 
poems of Burns which you find have the stanza of *'Poor 
Mailie's Elegy" (described on p. 305). Can you come to any 
conclusion as to the kind of poetry to which this stanza is 
best adapted? See Carlyle's estimate of the "Elegy" (p. 262). 

"Man Was Made to Mourn." — Sum up the ideas most char- 
acteristic of Burns in this poem. 

"Epistle to Davie." — In w^hat other poems of Burns do you 
find the stanza (p. 305) of this Epistle? Pick out the most 
significant and characteristic ideas of Burns expressed here. 

''Second Epistle to Davie."^Compare other poems in which 
Burns gives his views of "the bardie clan" ( pp. 59, 66, 137, etc. ) . 

"Epistle to J. Lapraik." — What are the chief personal reve- 
lations as to Burns here given? 

"Epistle to William Simpson." — Sum, up Burns's ideas as to 
the province of a patriotic poet. What aspects of nature 
inspired him most? Find in other poems confirmation of your 
conclusions. 

"Holy Willie's Prayer." — What is the point of view here 
assumed? Is this an irreverent or sacrilegious poem? Answer 
with reasons. 

"Epistle to the Rev. John McMath." — Sum up the attitude 
toward religion that you find indicated here. Take into con- 
sideration the related poems you have read and decide whetlior 
Carlyle was right in saying Burns had no religion (p. 298). 

"The Holy Fair." — ^Note the peculiarities of the stanza of 
tl»is poem and "Halloween" (p. 307). Do you know of any 



S30 APPENDIX 

religious observances of recent times, or of the present, that 
may be compared with those here described? See Carlyle's 
mention of this poem (p. 251). 

^'Halloween." — ^How many of the customs here portrayed, or 
similar ones, have you ever encountered or read about else- 
where? Enumerate American Hallowe'en customs. This is 
one of the most difficult of Burns's poems to understand. Do 
you find it any less interesting than the others? What does 
Carlyle mean in calling this a "Scottish Idyl" (pp. 251, 318) ? 
"To a Mouse." — ^What attitude toward animals is indicated 
here? Consider this with the other poems in which a similar 
feeling is expressed. How is this poem given a personal appli- 
cation? See Carlyle's allusions (pp. 241, 262). 

"The Jolly Beggars." — Examine this work carefully in con- 
nection with Carlyle's comments (pp. 264-5), trying to decide 
for sufficient reasons whether you agree with him, both in 
general and on specific points. Was Arnold inconsistent in call- 
ing this a "puissant and splendid production" (p. 97), in spite 
of his criticism of Burns for presenting an ugly world of 
"Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners" (p. 18) ? 
"The Cotter's Saturday Night." — Does this seem to you to 
deserve the exceptional popularity it has always had among 
Burns's works? Is it as a whole particularly characteristic 
of the poet? Does it all give the impression of perfect sin- 
cerity? What do you think of the English parts of it? ' 

"The Auld Farmer ... to His Auld Mare." — Where do 
you place this for difficulty among the poems read? Note 
Carlyle's allusions to it (pp. 254, 262). 

"The Twa Dogs." — Why do you suppose this was placed first 
in the early editions of Burns? Do you see any reasons why 
he or his publisher should regard such an arrangement as 
"putting his best foot foremost"? Sum up the view of the 
life of common folk, and the life of the gentry, here given. 

"Address to the Deil." — Do you find this mainly humorous 
or mainly serious ? Are there notably poetic passages ? Answer 
specifically. See Carlyle's allusion to the poem (p. 259). 

"Epistle to James Smith." — What does this indicate as to 
Burns's purpose in poetry? How seriously do you take him 



APPENDIX :331 

on this point? What does it indicate as to his "philosophy of 
life"? What elements of self-defense are involved? 

"To a Mountain Daisy." — Compare this with other poems of 
Burns as to the prominence of the note of pure poetic beauty. 
See Carlyle's mention on page 241. 

"Epistle to a Young Friend." — In what ways does this differ 
from all the other verse epistles in this volume? In what 
parts, particularly, has Burns been accused of inconsistency? 
Do you find a similar note in "The Cotter's Saturday Night"? 

"A Bard's Epitaph." — To what extent do you find this true 
self-characterization ? Note Carlyle's quotations ( pp. 242, 289 ) . 

"Address of Beelzebub." — What is the point of view here? 
Do you find it perfectly sustained? Explain in plain terms 
what the poem means to you. 

"Address to the Unco Guid." — Sum up in a sentence or two 
the main idea of this poem, and consider with it other expres- 
sions by Burns of similar meaning (pp. 21, 142, etc.). 

"A Winter Night." — Do you find sufficient merit here to 
justify Carlyle's references (pp. 253, 259) ? 

"Epistle to Mrs. Scott."— See Carlyle's allusion (p. 271). 

"The Wounded Hare."— See Carlyle's mention (p. 251). Do 
you find this little poem of poetic value? 

"Epistle to Dr. Blacklock." — What is the important per- 
sonal revelation? The important assertion as to one's duty? 

"Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson." — See Carlyle's allu- 
sion (p. 255). Study this poem and "The Humble Petition of 
Bruar Water" for detailed and accurate knowledge of nature. 

"Tarn o' Shanter." — Discuss in detail the fairness of Carlyle's 
estimate (pp. 262-3, 321). What do you think of lines 59-66? 
Why should there be such details as those of lines 89-96, 131- 
142? Find examples of the qualities Scott mentioned (p. 321). 
Do you know of any other witch story so well told as this? 

"Mary Morison." — Do you detect any way in which this 
poem differs from other early songs of Burns — e.g., in perfec- 
tion of finish, lack of wordiness, restraint, or suggestiveness ? 

"McPherson's Farewell." — What reasons do you find for 
Carlyle's stress on this song (p. 261) ? 

"Auld Lang Syne." — If told that two stanzas of this poem 



332 APPENDIX 

are finer poetically than the others, which two would you 
assume tp be meant? 

"To Mary in Heaven." — Do you think this very famous song 
deserves its fame from its poetic merits? How do you think 
it compares with "Highland Mary" (p. 213)? What does 
vour comparison lead you to conclude on the matter of Burns's 
mastery of English as compared with Scottish? 

"Scots Wha Hae." — Compare Burns's own statement as to 
the composition of this poem with the story about it that 
Carlyle repeats from Lockhart (p. 260). 

"Contented wi' Little," etc. — Compare this as a self-revela- 
tion of Burns at the age of thirty-five with self-revelations in 
some of his friendly epistles of nearly ten years earlier. 

"The Braw Wooer." — ^Who is the speaker and what is the 
story? Compare this with such other humorous love songs as 
"Tam Glen" and "Duncan Gray." 

The Scottish Dialect 

How is the dialect of Burns related to literary English 
(pp. 23-24) ? When was Scotch literature superior to English? 

Which poems in this volume would you call predominantly 
Scottish? W^hich, predominantly English? Do you find any 
that are wholly English? 

Collect for yourself examples of pure Scottish words — the 
most unusual and striking you can find — and of Scottish 
spelling of English words. 

What peculiarity in Burns's rimes is to be accounted for by 
Scottish custom (p. 27) ? Collect examples. 

Carlyle's Life 

When and where was Carlyle born (p. 28) ? In w^hat ways 
may his life be linked with that of Burns? Note points of 
similarity and of contrast between Burns and Carlyle in race, 
parentage, station in life, early hardships, education, struggles 
for recognition. 

What qualities of Carlyle's parents must have been influ- 
ential on their son? 

Where was Carlyle educated (p. 29) ? What was his opinion 



APPENDIX 333 

of his university? What occupation did he iirst plan to 
adopt? What actually was his first occupation after leaving 
the university? What was his first literary work? 

What did Carlyle mean Ijy the "Everlasting No" and the 
"Everlasting Yea" in his life (p. 30) ? Note reflections in the 
Essay on Burns of the stern morality indicated by his struggle. 

Whom did Carlyle marry, and what is it important to re- 
member about his wife (pp. 30-31) ? Where did the Carlyles 
live? When did they, respectively, die? 

Carlyle's Works 

What foreign influence in English literature was due con- 
siderably to Carlyle (p. 32)? 

What were the plan and the main idfeas of Carlyle's n;ost 
characteristic book (p. 33) ? Its chief peculiarities of style? 

What was Carlyle's theory of history (p. 34), and in what 
books did he exemplify it? Note the relation of this theory 
to the view of biography expressed on pages 236-7. 

What was Carlyle's attitude toward democracy (p. 35) ? 
What were his main reasons for this attitude? Can you 
answer his arguments? 

Do you believe Carlyle's "gospel of work" is particularly 
needed now? Give reasons. 

The Essay on Burns 

When and where was this essay written (p. 31) ? When and 
where first published (p. 36) ? 

f What does the essay purport to be? What part of it is 
devoted to discussion of the book that suggested it? 

Do you consider Carlyle particularly fitted to write about 
Burns (p. 37) ? State fuljy your reasons. 

In what way was Carlyle in this essay influential as a critic 
of literature (p. 36) ? What does he say or imply concerning 
the function and nature of literary criticism (p. 239, etc.) ? 

What did Carlyle consider the requirements of the ideal 
biography (pp. 236-7) ? Does this essay, so far as it is 
biographical, fulfill these requirements? 

Do you agree in all respects with Carlyle's estimate of 
Burns's poetical disadvantages (pp. 238-9)? 



334 APPENDIX 

\Yhat is Carlyle's opinion of the value to the world of a 
true poet (p. 240 and elsewhere) ? Sum up his reasons for 
considering Burns such a poet. 

^Vliat is the first "rare excellence" which Carlyle finds in 
Burns (p. 244) ? What poet who did not usually possess this 
excellence does he contrast with Burns (p. 247) ? When is 
Burns not sincere? And why? 

What is the second "peculiar merit" Carlyle finds in 
Burns's poetry (p. 248) ? 

What does Carlyle say of Burns's intellectual power? Of 
the range of his sympathy? 

What is the essence of Carlyle's comment on the influence 
of Burns on nationality in literature (pp. 267 if.) ? 

Why does Carlyle put the interest of Burns's life above that 
of his poems (p. 271) ? Would you agree? / 

Do you think a university training would have aided Burns 
in writing his kind of poetry (p. 274) ? Take into considera- 
tion the comparative merits of his more spontaneous poems 
in Scottish and his more studied poems in English. 

What, according to Carlyle, was the crisis in Burns's life 
(p. 290)? Do you agree that there were for him only the 
three possibilities that Carlyle mentions ? What were the 
(:hief causes of Burns's failure? 

Note the points of resemblance and difference which Carlyle 
points out between Burns and Byron (pp. 245-6, 300-302). 

Note other literary references in the essay, besides those to 
Byron. Show the unfairness of the reference to Keats (p. 256). 

What do you conclude from this essay as to Carlyle's insight 
into character, his attitude toward morality, his enthusiasm? 

THEME SUBJECTS 

1. The historical background of Bums (hints on pp. 9-10 
to be supplemented by use of histories). 4 

2. The literary background of Burns (pp. 10, 20, and indi- 
cations in the poems and notes). 

3. The life of Burns (pp. 11-18). 

4. The life of Carlyle (pp. 28-32). 



APPENDIX 335 

5. A parallel and contrast between the ancestry and early 
life of Burns and Carlyle. 

6. "Poor Mailie's" story (pp. 41-45). 

7. Burns as revealed in his verse epistles. 

8. A hypocrite I know. (Comparison may be made with 
-Holy Willie," pp. 68-71.) 

9. A modern revival meeting or camp meeting (compare 
"The Holy Fair," pp. 76 ff.). 

10. Hallowe'en customs — in Burns's time and now (pp. 
^.0 flF., 308-10). 

11. The story of 'The Jolly Beggars" (pp. 97 ff.). 

12. A paraphrase of the descriptive parts of "The Cotter's 
Saturday Night" (pp. 110 ff'.). 

13. A character study of the "auld farmer" on the basis 
of his attitude toward his "auld mare Maggie" (pp. 117 ff.)- 

14. The story of "The Twa Dogs" (pp. 122 ff.). 

15. A paraphrase of the "Address to the Deil" (pp. 130 ff. ) . 

16. The story of "Tarn o' Shanter" (pp. 179 ff.). 

17. My favorite song of Burns (or several "candidates" 
may be discussed). 

18. An elaboration of the story suggested by "Tam Glen," 
or "Duncan Gray," or "The Braw Wooer" (pp. 203, 214, 229). 

19. The Essay on Burns as a book review. 

•20. What a biography should be (pp. 236-7). ^ 

21. The qualities of a true poet. (Take into account both 
Burns's view and Carlyle's view, as indicated in many refer- 
ences above given.) 

22. An imaginary conversation between Burns and Scott 
(see pp. 280-82) on some such topic as Burns's poems (or 
one of them) or Scott's poetical ambitions. 

23. Why Biirns's life was a failure. (Discuss Carlyle's 
view, pp. 290 ff.) 

24. Burns and Byron. (Summarize Carlyle's comparisons, 
pp. 245-6, 300-302.) 

25. An original character sketch of Burns, taking into 
account all tliat Carlyle says, the self-revelation of the poems, 
and all other data available (a difficult task, but profitable for 
the best students). 



IN'DEX 

(This includes the words defined in footnotes, the titles of 
poems printed or referred to in this volume, proper names that 
are mentioned, and the principal topics discussed in the intro- 
duction and in Carlyle's essay. The references are to pages.) 



Abeigh, 119, 214 

Aboon, 58, 65, 86, 99, 136, etc. 

AbrS-m (Abraham), 99, 310 

Abread, 145 

Acquent, 202 

"Address of Beelzebub," 22, 

153-155, 312 
"Address to the Deil," 21, 130- 

135, 259, 311 
"Address to a Haggis," 22, 

159-161 
"Address to the Unco Guid," 

21, 156-158 
Ae, 41, 58, 60, 98, 132, etc. 
"Ae Fond Kiss, and Then VTe 

Sever," 16, 23, 208 
Ae hairst, 89 
^schylus, 260, 320 
A-faulding. 224 
Aff's nieves, 92 
Aff straught, 133 
Aft mair, 157 
Aiblins, 135, 145, 158, 173 
Aiblins thrang, 127 
Aiblins waur't, 119 
Aiken, Robert, 68, 71, 110, 148 
Aiks, 209 
Ailsa Craig, 215 
Ain, 216 
Air, 174 
Aims, 184 
Airt, 232 
Airts, 195 
Aizle, 89 
A-jee, 218 
Allegretto, 103, 310 
Alloway Kirk, 11, 179 
Almagro, 155, 312 



Amaist, 54, 56 

"A Man's a Man for A' That," 

19, 227-228 
American Revolution, The, 9, 

19 
Anathem, 72 
Ance, 54 
Ance mair, 216 
Animals, Burns's love of, 20, 

41-45, 94-96, 117-123, 162, 

171-172 
An' men', 135 » 

An's, 52 

Antonine, 80, 307 
Apollo, 103, 310 
A' remead, 44 
Araucana, The, 297, 325 , 
Arioso, 103, 142, 310, 312 
Armour, Jean, 14, 15, 16, 53, 

54, 195, 196, 306 
Arnold, Matthew, 18, 19, 20, 

97 
Ase, 88 

Asklent, 214 , 
Asteer, 91 

As yell's the bill, 133 
A' throu'ther, 86 
Aught hours' gaun, 120 
Aughtlins fawsont, 155 
"Auld Farmer, The, to His 

Auld Mare, 21, 24, 117-121, 

254, 262, 311 
Auld f arrant, 55 
"Auld Lang Syne," 23, 197- 

198, 267, 314 
Auld Lang Syne, 197 
Auld Lichts, 14, 68, 76, 234, 

298, 316 



336 



INDEX 



337 



Auld, The Rev. Mr., 14, 168 
Aumous, 98 
Ava, 123 

Ayont the lough, 182 
Ayr, 11, 12, 13, 15, 45, 75, 192, 
201, 305 

Ba*, 51 

Bacon, Francis, 319, 321, 324 

Bacon, Roger, 294, 324 

Bade. 172 

Baggie, 117 

Bairn, 182, 193 

Bairns greet, 43 

Baith mirk, 190 

Baith snell, 95 

Bakes an' gills, 81 

Ban, 56 

Ban', 72 

Banes, 50 

"Banks o' Doon, The," 23, 207 

Barbour, John, 24 

"Bard's Epitaph. A," 21, 152- 

153, 289, 317, 324 
Baring, 124 
Barmie, 137 

Bashing and dashing, 166 
Bauckie-hird, 97 
Bauk-en', 88 
Banks, 88 
Bauld an' slee, 60 
Bear, 166, 185 
Beas*, 155 

Beattie, James, 58, 306 
Beets, 53, 114 
"Beggar's Bush, The," 265, 

321 
"Beggar's Opera, The," 265, 

321 
Beld, 202 
Belyve, 111 
Ben, 112, 203, 210 
Ben-Lomond, 49, 305 
Benmost bore, 99 *^ 

Benmost neuk, 155 
Ben to the chimla lug, 50 
Besouth, 64 
"Bessy and Her Spinnin- 

Wheel," 209-210 



Be your pint stowp, 198 
Bickering brattle, 95 
Bid, 154 

Bide the stoure, 188 
Bier, 209 
Bield, 147, 232 
Bien, 50, 209 
Big, 95 
Biggin, 124 

Billie, 63, 84, 123, 128 
Biography, 236-7 
Birkbeck, Morris, £36, 316 
Birkie, 81, 167 
Birkie ca'd, 228 
Birk, 120, 182, 200, 209, 213 
Birses, 154 
Bit, 231 
Bit duddie, 145 
Bizz, 134 

Black-bonnet, 79. 307 
Blacklock, Dr.. 21, 172, 283 
Blakes an' gills, 81 
Blastie, 145 
Blate, 152, 165 
Blate an' laithfu'. 113 
Blate, scaur, 131 
Blather, 43 
Blaudin, 72 
Blawn't, 103 
Bleer't, 215 
Bleez'd, 87 
Bleeze, 182 
Bleezin, 133 
Blellum, 180 
Blethering, 180 
Bleth'rin, 79 
Blink, 84 

Blin's her e'e, 222 
Blypes, 92 
Bocked, 161 
Bogles, 182 
Boord, 133 
Boor trees, 132 
'Borgia, 250, 318 
Boston, Thomas. 268, 322 
Botches, 134 
Bow-kail, 8« 
Bow-kail runt, 87 



33S 



INDEX 



Bow't, ^ 

Brachens, 93 

Braes, 51, 63, 93, 198, 200, etc. 

Braid, 198 

Braing't, fetch't, fliskit, 120 

Brats, 173 

Brattle, 119, 162 

Braw, 56, 101, 111, 122, etc. 

Braw braid-claith, 78 

Braw claes, 141 

"Braw Lads o' Galla Water," 

217 
Brawlie, 63,' 223 
"Braw Wooer, The," 229, 230 
Braxies, 67 
Breakin, 128 
Bred sic a splore, 70 
Bree, 204 
Breeks, 204 
Brent, 202 
•Brent new, 183 
Bri&, 186 

"Brigs of Ayr, The," 253, 318 
Brisket, 120 
Brock, 125 
Brogne, 134 
Brooses, 119 
Brunstane cootie, 130 
Brunt. 87 
Budget, 105 
Buirdly chiels, 125 
Buirdly, steeve, an' swank, 118 
Bum, 67 
Bum-clock, 130 
Bummin, 132 
Burdies, 184 
Bure, 118 
Bure the gree, 65 
Burn, 107, 161, 198 
Burnes, William, 11, 13, 122, 

274-275 
Burnie, 65, 93, 209 
Burnie rowes, 224 
Burnies wimplin, 176 ' 

Burns, Gilbert, 12, 13, 16, 38, 

41, 46, 49, 94, 110, 200 
Burn's meander, 66 
But, 51, 96, 140 



Butler, Samuel, 233, 293, 314 

Butt an' ben, 81 

By himsel, 90 

Byke, 186 

Byre, 167 

Byron, 245-246, 300, 302, 317 

Ca', 42, 111 

Cacus, 261, 321 

Cadger, 98 

Cadger pownie, 59 

Caird, 104, 141 

Caledonian Hunt, The, 234, 

315 
Caller, 76, 209 
Callet, 99, 109 
Camoens, 294, 325 
Campbell, Mary, 15, 201 
Canie, 140 

Cannie, 86. Ill, 118, l90, 191 
Cannie thraw, 92 
Cannilie he hums, 81 
Cantharidian plaisters, 80 
Cantie, 92, 126, 172, 200, 225 
Cantraip slight, 183 
Canty, 177 
Cape-stane, 44 
Care na by, 190, 206 
Carl-hemp, 174 
Carhn, 92, 136 
Carlin claught, 187 
Carlyle, James, 28 
Carlyle, Jane Welsh, 30, 31 
Carlyle, Thomas, 16, 17, 18, 

19, 20, 23, 28, 37 
Carrick, 85, 308 
Cartes, 53 

Cassilis Downans, 85, 308 
Castalia, 107, 310 
Cast out, 129 
Catch the plack, 62 
Ca' the crack, 57 
"Ca' the Yowes to the 

Knowes," 224, 225 
Cervantes, 293, 297, 324 
Change-house, 81 
Chanters, 45 
Chanters winna hain, 64 



INDEX 



339 



Chap, 62 

Chapman billies, 179 
Chapman smoor'd, 182 
"Charlie, He's My Darling-," 

23. 223 
Chelsea, Carlyle in, 31 
"Cherry and the Slae, The," 

305 
Chiel, 50, 58, 101 
Chittering, 162 
Choice of Subjects, Burns's, 

248-251 
Christendie, 204 
Chuckle, 174 
Cit, 141 
Claes, 77, 79 
Clap plays clatter, 156 
"Clarinda," 16,-208, 221 
Clash, 137 
Claver, 209 

Clavers an* havers, 165 
Claymore, 102, 153 
Clearness of Sight, Burns's, 

254-255 
Cleeds, 209, 226 
Cleekit, 184 
Cleek the sterlin, 101 
Clink, 56 
Clinkumbell, 84 
Clinton, Sir Henry, 154, 312 
Clips, 45 

Cloot, 41, 43, 135 
Clootie, 130 
Clout, 105 
Clud, 176 
Clunk, 106 
Cockle, 174 
Coft, 185. 217 
Cog, 225 

Cogs and caups, 83 
Coila, 64 

Coil, King, 122, 311 
Combe, John ^, 234, 315 
Constable's Miscellany, 236, 

316 
"Contented wi' Little and 

Cantie wi' Mair," 225 
Coof, r,0, 228 



Cookit, 93 

Coor, 108 

Coost. 41, 184, 214 

Core, 156 

Corn't, 119 

Corny. 178 

"Cotter's Saturday Night. 

The," 11, 14, 20. 21, 110-117, 

275, 310, 311. 317, 323 
Coulter, 96 

Council of Trent, 251, 318 
Cour, 185 
Couthie. 87 
Couthy, 230 
Cove, The, 85, 308 
Cowgate, The, 81, 307 
Cow'r, 162 
Crabbit leuks, 129 
Crack, 59, 62, 84 
Cracks, 112 
Crackin crouse, 126 
Craigenputtock, 31, 32 
Craik, 177, 209 
Crambo- jingle, 59 
Cranreuch, 96, 97 
Crap, 176 
Craw, 204 
Creel, 63 

Creeshie flannen, 184 
Crockford's, 250, 318 
Cromek's Reliques, 38, 315 
Croon, 45, 93 
Crouchie, 91 
Crouse and canty, 215 
Crowdie, 78 
Crummock, 185 
Culloden, The battle of, 222. 

223 
Curchie, 177 
Curpin, 90 
Curple, 167 
Currie's edition, 18, 38, 234. 

235, 285, 315 
Curtis, 99, 310 
Cushat croods, 66 
Cushat kens, 176 
Cushats, 209 
Custock, 86, 308 



340 



INDEX 



Cutty, 185 

Baez't, 56 

Daffin, 78, 123, 156 

Bails, 79 

Daimen-icker in sl thrave, 95 

Darklins, 88 

DauF, 74, 89, 145, 225 

Daur na gang, 223 

Daur't to raize, 117 

Daunting-ly gaed, 194 

"Davie, Epistle to," 49-54 

"Davie, Second Epistle to,'* 55- 
57 

Daw, 204 

Dawds, 83 

Dawtit, twal-pint h a w k i e, 
133 

"Death and Dying AVords of 
Poor Mailie, The," 41-43 

Deave, 203, 229 

Deborah, 108, 310 

Defoe, 255, 819 

Deil haet, 129 

"Deil's Awa wi* the Excise- 
man, The," 311 

Deleeret, 89 

Delphi, 249, 318 

Democracy, Burns's, 19, 108, 
109, 153, 219, 220, 227, 228 

Dempster, 141, 312 

Descrive, 67 

Devil-haet, 56 

Devil's pictur'd beuks, 129 

Dight, 54, 103. 156, 159 

Dine, 198 

Ding, 135 

Dinna, 71, 142, 145 

Dinsome, 210 

Dirl, 183 

Dizzen's dune, 129 

Donsie, 156 

Dool, 152 

Doon River, 11, 12, 23, 45, 
207, 305 

Douce, 58, 132, 142, 156, etc. 

Douglas, Gavin, 24 

Douked, 101 



Douse, 72 

Dow, 84 

Dow but hoyte, 119 

Dowie, 44, 117 

Doxy, 98 

Doxies, 109 

Doytin, 41 

Drappie, 204 

Dribble, 96 

Driddle, 103 

Driegh, 119 

Droddum, 144 

Droop-rumpl't, 119 

Droukit sarR, 204 

Drumlie, 213 

Drumly, 128 

Drunt, 87 

Drury Lane, 155, 312 

Dub, 60, 182 

Duddie, 122. 153 

Duddie weans, 124 

Dumfries, 16, 17, 28, 31, 287, 

288, 314, 315 
"Duncan Grey," 19, 214, 215, 

267 
Dunlop, Mrs., 46, 171, 197, 199, 

200, 201, 212, 247, 311, 317, 

319 
"Dweller in yon dungeon 

dark," 260, 320 
Dyvors, 155 

Ecclefechan, 28, 32 
Edinburgh, Burns in, 15, 16, 

17, 172, 274, 278-283; Car- 

lyle in, 29, 30. 
Edinburgh Review, The, 32, 

36 
E'e, 96, 103, 111, 142, etc. 
Een, 43, 177, 196, 215, 228 
Eerie, 72, 132 
Eild, 139 

Elbuck jink an' diddle, 55 
Eldritch, 80, 131, 177, 186 
Eldritch, stoor, 132 
"Elegy on Captain Matthew 

Henderson," 22, 175-179, 

255, 319 



INDEX 



341 



Elliot, 99, 310 

Ellisland, 16, 195 

"Epistle to a Young Friend," 

21, 148-151 
"Epistle to Davie," 21, 49-54, 

305, 306 
"Epistle to Dr. Blacklock," 

172-174, 313 
"Epistle to James Smith," 136- 

143, 156, 312 
"Epistle to J. Lapraik, 57-62, 

306 
"Epistle to Mrs. Scott," 165- 

167, 271, 313 
"Epistle to the Rev. John Mc- 

Math," 21, 72-75 
"Epistle to William Simpson," 

63-67, 306, 307 
Erse, 135 
Essay on BurnSj 31, 36, 37, 

233-304 
Ettle, 186 
Ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, 

180 
Ev'ry tail, etc., 119 
Excise, 16, 17, 234, 242, 284, 

315, 317 
Eydent, 112 

Fa', 134, 167, 225 
Faddom't, 92 
Faiket, 55 » 

Failure, The cause of Burns's, 

295-300 
Fair fa', 159 
Fairin, 186 
Fand, 180 
"Farewell Song to the Banks 

of Ayr," 23, 192, 193, 278, 

313 
Farls, 78 
Fash. 50, 56, 137 
Fash'd, 69 
Fash't, 124 
Fatt'rils, 144 
Faught, 225 
Fause, 74 
Faut 156, 189 



Fawsont, 127 

Feat, 85 

Fechtin, 90, 135 

Fecht wi' nowt, 127 

Feck, 77 

Feckless, 160 

Feg, 50 

Fell, 144 

Fell aff the drift, 86 

Fell and doure, 161 

Fen', 203 

Fend, 42 

Fergusson, Robert, 20, 60, 63- 

65, 110, 238, 281, 306, 316 
Ferlie, 126, 143 
Ferly, 143 
Fidg'd fu' fain, 185 
Fidge fu' fain, 64 
Fient, 122, 186 
Fient haet, 128 
Fier, 50 
Fier, 173 
Fiere, 198 

Fit, 65, 87, 93, 144, 198 
Fittie-lan', 120 
FlafRn wi' duds, 155 
Flainen toy, 145 
Fleech'd, 215 
Fleesh, 45 

Fletcher, Andrew, 267, 322 
Fley'd an' eerie, 91 
Flichterin, 111 
Flie, 218 

Flie may stang, 107 
Flit, 121 
Foggage, 95 
"For A* That, an' A' That,'* 

106, 107, 277 
Forbye sax mae, 121 
Forfoughten, 165 
Forgie, 229 

Fou, 100, 179, 204, 214 
Foughten, 128 
Foul thief, 89 
Fow, 61, 121 
Frae. 199 

Frae tap to tae, 209 
Frae yont, 4 5 



342 



INDEX 



Franklin, 154, 312 

French Revolution, 9, 17, 19, 

287 
French Revolution, The (Car- 

lyle's), 31, 34 
Fu' brawlie, 185 
Fu' crump, 78 
Fuds, 108 
Fuff't, 89 
Furms, 83 
Furs, 76 
Fyke, 186 
Fyl'd, 79 

Gab, 98, 184 

Gabs, 86 

Gabs a-steering", 94 

Gae, 73, 218, 224, 230 

Gae a keek, 91 

Gaed, 77, 78, 189, 212, 230 

Gaed scrievin, 93 

Gaen, 91 

Gae scrievin, 56 

Gae tapsalteerie, 191 

Gaets, 42 

Gae wi'm, 229 

Galileo, 294, 324 

Galston, 76, 307 

Gane, 212 

Gang, 112, 141, 205, 218, etc. 

Gang aft agley, 96 

Gar, 55, 62, 65, 86 

Gar me fissle, 62 

Gars auld claes, 112 

Gars me greet, 180 

Gart, 166, 214 

Garten, 86 

Gar them clink, 56 

Gart them skirl, 183 

Gar't them whaizle, 119 

Gash, 78, 123 

Gashin at their cracks, 88 

Gate, 128 

Gaun, 78, 127, 136, 143 

Gawsie, 123 

Gawsie, gash, 83 

Gaylies 154 

Gear, 50, 71, 118, 128, 150 



Geneva, 268, 322 

Geordie, 231 

Get aboon, 45 

Ghaist nor bogle, 224 

Gie, 42, 73, 80, 151, 157, etc. 

Gied a sten, 204 

Gie dreeping, 141 

Gied thy cog, 120 

Gies, 157 

Gie's, 198 

Gies a ca', 92 

Gies them't, 83 

Gie them baith, 59 

Gif, 55, 60, 86, 204 

Giga, 103, 310 

Gilbertfield, 63, 306 

Gilpey, 89 

Gin, 78, 84, 203, 230 

Ginhorse, 303, 326 

Girdle, 98 

Girn, 45 

Glaikit, 55, 156, 173 , 

Glaizie, 117 

Gloamin, 130 

Glover, Richard, 268, 322 

Glowr, 79 

Glowr and spell, 196 

Glowr'd, 76, 184, 185, 230 

Glowrin, 54, 168 

Glowrin byke, 106 

Glowrin een, 41 

Goethe, 32, 319, 320 

Goldsmith, 10, 85, 268 

Gooms, 69 

Go wan, 190 

Gowd, 227 

Gowdspink, 169 

Graip, 90 

Graith, 78 

Grane an* gruntle, 91 

Grape an' wale, 86 

Grapit, 88 

Grat, 168, 215 

Graunie, 89 

Gravissimo, 142, 312 

Gray, Thomas, 268, 322 

Gree, 228 

Gree, 206 



INDEX 



343 



"Green Grow the Rashes," 22, 

191, 192, 313 
Grieves, 154 
Grips an' granes, 128 
Groset, 144 
Growler, 155 
Grumphie, 91 
Grushie weans, 126 
Gude. 43 
Gude forgie, 61 
Gude-willie waught, 198 
Guid-father's meere, 118 
Guid's, 73 

Gulravage rinnin scowr, 72 
Gust, 166 

Ha'-Bible, 114 

Haffet, 144 

Hafflins, 112 

Ha' folk, 124 

Hainch, 103 

Hain'd rig", 121 

Hain't, 55 

Hairst, 166 

Haith, 127 

Hal', 134 

Hald, 96 

Hale, 167 

Hallan ca', 167 

"Halloween," 14, 21, 24, 85- 

94, 251, 307-310 
Haly, 183 
Hamilton, Gavin, 68, 70, 72, 

73 
Hancock, John, 154, 312 
Han' darg-, 124 
"Handsome Nell," 13, 165, 

187, 188 
Hansel, 117 
Hap, 167 
Happer, 156 
Haps me fiel, 209 
Hap-stap-an'-lowp, 77 
Hashes, 60 

Hand, 85, 143, 144, 150, etc. 
Hand a yokin, 165 
Haughs, C6 
Haurl, 175 
Haurlin, 92 



Haurls, 90 

Havins, 43, 62 

Hav'rel, 86 

Hawkie, 113 

Healsome parritch, 113 

Hecht, 92 

Held awa, 100 

Helicon, 107, 196, 310, 314 

Henderson, Captain Matthew, 

175 
Herd, 92 
Her lane, 91 
Heron, Robert, 172, 315 
Het, 54 
"Highland Mary," 15, 200, 201, 

213, 214 
Hilch, and stilt, and jimp, 54 
Hilchin, 91 
Hiltie-skiltie, 56 
Hing, 49, 227 
Hirplin, 76 
Histie, 147 

Hizzie, 56, 76, 125, 155, 215 
Hoddin, 78 
Hoddin, 227 

Hog-shouther, jundie, 67 
Hol'd . . . like a riddle, 103 
Holland, 210 -^ 

"Holy Fair, The," 20, 21, 76- 

84, 251, 307, 308 
Holy Willie, 14. 20, 68 
"Holy Willie's Prayer," 21, 

68-71, 72, 156 
Homer, 254, 319 
Hookdd, 101 
Hoolie, 137 
Horace, 244, 317 
Horn, 160 
Hornie, 79 
Horn nor bane, 144 
Hostin, hirplin. 139 
Hotch'd, 185 
Houghmagandie, 84 
Houlets, 177. 182 
Houpe, 105 
Howe, 45 
Howe-backit, 117 
Howes, 138 



344 



IXDEX 



Howe, Viscount, 154, 312 

Howkin, 124 

Howkit, 123, 132 

Hoy't, 92 

''Humble Petition of Bruar 

Water, The," 168-171 
Hume, David, 268, 269, 322, 

323 
Humor, Burns' s, 262 
Hunkers, 105 
Hurcheon, 175 
Hurdies, 123, 159, 184 

Ilk, 98, 178, 226, 231 

Ilka, 123, 176, 207, 208, etc. 

Ilka bore, 183 

Ilka carlin, 184 

Ilka melder, 180 , 

Ilk guid chiel, 166 

Ilk happing, 162 

Ill-thief, 172 

Indentin, 127 

Indignation in Burns's poems, 

259-261 
Ingine, 58 

Ingle, 49, 111, 114, 155 
Ingle, bleezing, 180 
Inverness, 58, 306 
Irvine, Burns in, 274 
I'se, 63 
I'se no, 61 
Isle of Dogs, The, 303, S26 

Jacobite songs, 23, 222, 223 

Jad gae, 225 

Jads, 56, 107 

Jauk, 112 

Jaukin, 88 

Jaups in luggies, 161 

Jimp, 196 

Jinker, 119 

Jinkin, 66, 136 

Jo, 1-97, 202 

Joctelegs, 86 

"John Anderson, My Jo," 23, 

202 
Johnson, James, 17, 22, 38 
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 10, 260, 

268, 320, 322, 324 



•*Jolly Beggars, The," 21, 97- 

109, 264, 265, 310 
Jouk, 142 
Jow an' croon, 84 
Jowler, 155 
Juvenal, 320 

Kail, 42, 70, 86 

Kain, stents, 124 

Kames, Lord, 268, 269, 322 

Keats, 256, 319 

Kebars sheuk, 99 

Kebbuck, 83 

Kebbuck-heel, 84 

Keek, 150, 166 

Kelpies, 133 

Ken, 73, 77, 143, 190, 205 

Kend, 125, 172, 185, 223 

Ken na, 50 

Kennin, 158 

Ken oursel,' 52 

Kent, 58, 101 

Kep, 178 

Kiaugh, 111 

Kilbaigie, 105 

Kilmarnock edition, 15, 16, 38, 

172 
Kirk, 180, 218 
Kirkton Jean, 180, 313 , 
Kirn, 133 
Kirns, 104, 126 
Kir sen, 62 
Kittle, 64, 82, 104 
Kittlin, 92 
Knaggie, 117 
Knappin-hammers, 60 
Knowe, 45, 123, 224, 231 
Kye, 112, 130, 190 
Kyle, 311, 313 
Kyle-Stewart, 118, 311 
Kythe, 85 

La Fl^che, 269, 322 

Lag, 131 

Laigh, 209 

Lairing, sprattle, 162 

Laith, 95 

Lallan, 135 

Lalland, 101 



I 



INDEX 



345 



Lang syne, 123, 134 

Lap, 87 

Lap and flang', 185 

Lap a sheugh, 123 

Lapraik, John, 21, 57 

Lap, sten't, breastit, 120 

Lap the hool, 93 

"Lassie wi' the Lint-white 

Locks," 226, 227" 
"Lass wi' a Tocher, A," 23, 

231 
Lave, 95, 103, 113, 157, 205 
Lave, ilk, 165 
Lav'rock, 76, 98, 169, 221 
Law, 107, 210 
Lays, 85 

Lea'e, 88, 96, 145 
Leal, 85 

Lear, 51, 60, 173 
Lee-lang, 129, 196, 204 
Leeze me on, 56, 209 
Leeze me on drink, 82 
Len', 203 

Letters of Burns, 247 
Leuk, 88 
Ley, 209 
Lift, 161 
Lift sae hie, 205 
Lightly, 218 
Like hafflins-wise, 81 
Limmer, 128 
Lin, 176 
Linket, 184 
Linkin, 135 
Linn, 93, 169, 215 
Lintwhite, 169, 209 
Lint-white, 226 
Lippen'd to the chiel, 122 
Listed, 106 
Loan, 130 
Lochlea, 13, 41 
Locke, John, 296, 325 
Lockhart, 18, 36, 233, 235, 236, 

279, 287-289, 315, 317, 323, 

324 
Lo'e, 204 
Loot, 229 
Loot a winze, 92 



Loun, 205 

Louse, 73 

"Lovely Lass o' Inverness, 
The," 222 

Love Songs, Burns* s, 22, 187- 
192, 195-197, 199-204, 207, 
208, 213, 216-218, 220, 221 

Lowe, 150 

Lowe, Sir Hudson, 240, 316 

Lowin, 108 

Lowin heuch, 131 

Lowin brunstane, 83 

Lowp, 173 

Lowpin, 215 

Lowse, 108 

Lows'd, 134 

Lucy, Sir Thomas, 234, 313 

Lugar, 1«9, 313 

Luggies, 94 

Lugs, 93, 122, 130, 142, 158 

Lum, 87 

Lunardi, 145 

Lunches, 83 

Lunt, 94 

Luntin, 126 

Luther, 250, 318 

Lyart, 77, 97 

Lyart hafCets, 114 

Mae, 205 

Maecenas, 286, 324 

Mahoun, 211 

Mailen, 229 

Mailie, 13, 21, 41-45 

Mair braw, 85 

Mair spier na, 50 

Mair taen, 136 

Mair vauntie, 167 

Man of Uzz, 134 

"Man's a Man for A* That, 

A," 227, 228 
"Man Was Made to Mourn." 

21, 46-49 
Mark, 118 
Marled, 167 
Mar's-year, 94 
Martial chuck, 100 
"Mary Morison," 188, 189 



346 



INDEX 



Mauchline, 78, 97, 136 

Maukin, 170 

Maukins whiddin, 176 

Maun, 70, 86, 95, 125, 133, etc. 

Mauna, 203 

Mauna fa', 228 

Maun hae brose, 173 

Maun sair, 55 

Maun thole, 125 

Maut, 204, 210 

Mavis, 169, 193, 221, 224 

McMath, The Rev. John, 72 

"McPherson's Farewell," 23, 
194, 195. 261 

Meikle, 175, 182, 185, 210 

Mel vie, 84 

Mense, 44 

Menseless, 43 

Messln, 122 

Midden-hole, 92 

Milton, 130, 297, 300, 301, 311, 
320, 321, 325 

Mim, 81 

Minds, 207 

Minerva Press, The, 250, 318 

Minnie, 118, 203 

Mirk, 180 

Misca'd, 73 

Montgomery, General, 154, 312 

Moop an* mell, 43 

Moore, Dr., 311, 320, 323 

Moro, The, 99, 310 

Mossgiel, 13, 14, 16, 17, 250, 
273, 318 

Mou, 88 

Moudieworts, 123 

Mount Oliphant, 12, 13 

Muckle, 57, 118, 149 

Muckle anes, 86 

Muckle gear, 42 

Muckle mair, 51 

Muckle's, 107 

Muirkirk, 58, 306 

Murdoch, John, 12 

Musaus, 263, 321 

My Bonie Mary, 199 

"My Heart's in the High- 
lands," 206 



"My 
"My 



Xanie, O," 189, 190, 
Nanie's Awa," 221 



183 



Na deils a boddle, 

Nae get, 45 

Nae meikle tocher, 217 

Nae sma', 51 

Napoleon Bonaparte, 10, 240, 

316 
Nappy, 126, 179, 181 
Nature Poetry, Burns's, 22, 
175-179 



146-148, 168-171 
Neuk, 82, 88 
New Holland, 64 
New Lichts, 14, 
/277, 298, 316 
Niest, 43, 81, 98, 101, 230 
Nieve, 132, 160 
Niffer, 157 
"Night Was Still, 
Nith River, 16, 196^ 
Nits, 85, 160 
No, 167 

No ill taen, 112 
North, Lord, 154, 312 
No thy lane, 96 
Novum Organum, 256, 



307 
2-8, 68, 



The,' 
200 



234, 



193 



319 



O'erword, 193 

"Of a' the Airts the Wind Can 

Blaw," 195, 196, 314 
Olio, 160 

Onie ermine ever lap, 167 
"Open the Door to Me, O," 

254, 319 
Orra duddies, 98 
Or simmer, 120 
Ossorius, 265, 321 
O' tocher, 118 
Ourie, 162 
Outler quey, 93 
Out-owre the chimlie, 87 
Out-owre the lay, 117 
"O, Were I on Parnassus Hill," 

196, 197, 314 
"O, Wert Thou in the Cauld 

Blast," 232 
Owre, 41, 56, 70, 74, 152 
Owre aften, 127 



INDEX 



347 



Paidl'd, 198 

Painch, 159 

Pai trick, 176, 209 

Pai tricks scraichin, 57 

Pangs us fou, 82 

Parnassus, 56, .60, 196, 306, 

314 
Parnassian queires, 173 
Pat, 91 
Pat, 88 

Pat me fidgin-fain, 58 
Pattle, 95 
Pauky een, 166 
Pechan, 124 
Pelops' line, 261, 321 
Penny wheep, 82 
Personal revelations by Burns, 

21, 53, 56, 59, 74, 96. 137- 

143, 147, 151, 152, 172-174. 

192-193, 225 
"Petition, The Humble, of 

Bruar Water," 22 
Philibeg, 102 
Phraisin, 63 
Pickle, 92 
Pin, 159 
Pint-stowp, 81 
Pit, 43, 88 

Pit their painch in, 124 
Pitt, William, 141, 312 
Pizarro, 155, 312 
Plack, 61 

Plebiscita, 303, 326 
Pleugh. 121 
Pleugh an* graith. 59 
Pliver. 104 
Pock, 90 
Poet, The character of a true, 

249-251 
Poetic art, Burns's views of, 

21, 56, 59-61, 63-67. 137, 

138, 165-167 
Poind and herriet, 154 
Poind their gear, 125 
Political satire, Burns's, 22, 

101, 127, 153-155 
Polycrate, 155, 312 



"Poor Mailie's Elegy." 44, 45, 

262, 305 
Poortith, 125, 149, 203 
"Poosie Nansie," 20, 97, 98, 

264, 310 
Pope, 10, 58, 73, 115, 116, 311 
Pouch, 225 
Pouchie, 56 
Pou'd the gowans, 198 
Pouch, 225 
Poussie whiddin, 57 
Poussin, 254, 319 
Pou't, 86 

Pou their stocks, 85 
Pouthery, 164 * 

Pow, 202 
Prent, 137 
Prief, 136 
Primsie, 87 
Pu'd, 207 
Pussie, 186 
Pyke, 104 
Pyles o' caff, 156 

Quakin, 88 
Quat, 143 
Queans, 184 

Rabelais, 298, 325 

Racked, 124 

Raibles, 81 

Rair, 177, 181 

Rairin, 82 

Rambler, The, 268, 322 

Ramsay, Allan, 20, 24, 60, 63, 

65, 197, 238, 281, 305, 316 
Ramsgatfe, 303, 326 
Ram-stam, 143 
Randie, gangrel, 98 
Rank my rig and lass, 165 
Rant, 50 
Rantin, 135 
Rantin kirn, 90 
Rape, 45 
Raploch, 56 
Rash, 160, 191 
Rash-buss, 132 
Rasselas, 268, 322 
Ratton, 92, 99 



348 



INDEX 



Raucle carlia, 101 

Raught, 90 

Raxin, 73 

Rax your leather, 121 

Ream, 126 

Reaming swats, 180 

Reams, 107 

Reave, 42 

Reck the rede, 151 

Red, 55 

Red, 137 

"Red, Red Rose, A," 220 

Red-wat-shod, 65 

Reekin, 62 

Reekit, 134, 184 

Reestit, 120 

Reestit gizz, 134 

Religious Satire, Burns' s, 

68-84, 130-135, 150, 156- 
Restaurateur, 296, 325 
Retzsch, 253, 318 
Richardson, 255, 319 
Richter, Jean Paul, 32, 33, 

325 
Rief, 136 
Rienzi, 279, 323 
Rigwoodie, 185 
Rin, 43, 86 
Ripp, 42, 117 
Rive, 160 
Rives, 127 
Rivin, 56 
Robertson, William, 268, 

322 
Rock, 209 
"Rock of Independence," 

286, 323 
Roman Jubilee, 251, 318 
Roose, 61 
Roostyi 104 
Row, 195, 216 
Rowe, 45 
Rowth, 141 
Rowtin, 130 
Rozet, 144 

Run deils an* jads^ 129 
Runkl'd, 78 
Runt, 86 



Ryke, 103 

Sacerdotal stole, 115 
Sackville, 154, 312 
S"ae rantingly, 194 
Sae sair, 106 

Sair, 87, 125, 128, 222, 229 
Sair daurk, 121 
Sairly, 143 
Sairs, 60 
Sair to bide, 215 
Sair-won, 111 
Sang about, 57 
Sark, 78, 93, 184, 210 
Sartor Resartus, 30, 33-35, 37 
Saugh, 119^ 
Saumont-coble, 119 
21, Saut, 44 
158 Saw, 90 

''Saw Ye Bonie Lesley," 212, 

213 
Sax, 69 
299, Scar, 162 
Scaud, 131 
Scaur, 93 
Scawl, 134 
Sconner, 141, 160 
"Scotch Drink," 17, 254, 319 
"Scots, Wha Hae," 23, 219, 

220, 260, 261, 267 
Scott, Mrs., 21, 165 
Scott, Sir Walter, 36, 208, 270, 
269, 280-282, 321 

Scottish dialect, 23-27 
Scottish literature, Burns's in- 
272, fluence on, 267-271 

Scottish rural life in Burns's 

poems, 21, 78-94, 110-116, 

159-161 
Screed, 64, 77 
Scroggy, 223 
"Second Epistle to Davie," 55- 

57, 306 
Session, 100 
Sets, 92 

Sets up her horn, 177 
Seventeen hunder linen, 184 
Shachl'd, 230 



INDEX 



349 



Shakespeare, 161, 234. 263, 

293, 307, 315, 321, 323 
Shavie, 57 
Shaw, 137 

Shaws, 93, 176, 196, 217, 221 
Shearers, 72 
Sherra-moor, 89 
Sheugh, 124 
Shiel, 209 
Shift, 86 
Shill, 190 
Shog, 134 
Shools, 60 
Shoon, 84, 136, 230 
Shor'd, 169 
Shouther, 86, 91, 230 
Sic, 52, 69, 80, 104, 118, etc. 
Sic a braw, 203 
Sic a lunt, 89 
Sidelins sklented, 63 
Sillar, David, 49 
Siller, 203 
Silly wa's, 95 
Simmer, 76 

Simpson, William, 21, 63 
Sin', 44 

Sincerity, Burris's, 244-247 
Sin' lint was i' the bell, 114 
Skaith, 212 
Skellum, 180 
Skellums, 73 
Skelp, 131, 225 
Skelpie-limmer's face, 89 
Skelpin, 54, 76 
Skelpin barefit, 78 
Skelpit, 182 
Skelvy, 169 
Skiegh, 119 
Skinkingr, 161 
Skirl'd, 100 
Sklent, 137 
Sklented, 134 
Sklentin, 132 
Skouth, 74 
Skyte, 97 
Slaes, 77 
Slaps. 42, 84, 179 
Siee. 118 



Sleekit, 94 

Sleest, paukie, 136 

Slypet owre, 120 

Smeddum, 144 

Smiddie, 122, 175 

Smith, Adam, 268, 269, 322, 

323 
Smith, James, 21, 97, 136 
Smoor'd, 215 
Smoutie phiz, 134 
Smytrie, 124 
Snakin, 71 

Snapper and stoyte, 225 
Snash, 125 
Snawy hoord, 138 
Sned, 160 
Sned besoms, thraw saugh 

woodies, 173 
Sneeshin mill, 126 
Snick, 134 
Snirtle, 105 
Snool, 152 
Snoov't awa, 120 
Snore an' skriegh, 119 
Snowkit, 123 
Social Satire, Burns's, 21, 122- 

130, 143-145 
Soger, 225 
Song-s, Burns's, 22, 2g, 265-267. 

289 
Sonsie, 159 
Sonsie, baws'nt, 128 
Sonsie quean, 166 
Soupe, 113 
Souter, 181 
Southron billies, 68 
Sowens, 94, 310 
Sowth, 51 
Sowther, 129, 22S 
Spae, 89 
Spails, 155 
Spairges, 130 
Spavie, 57 
Spaviet, 54 

Spectator, The. 268, ifrf 
Speel, 63, 79 
Speel'd. 139 
Speet. 104 



350 



INDEX 



Spence, 44 

Spey, 102, 310 

Spier, 111 

Spier'd, 230 

Spier nae mair, 205 

Spier't, 58 

Splore, 98 

Sprattle, 144 

Spring-, 193, 194 

Sprittie knowes wad rair't an' 

riskit, 120 
Spunk, 60 
Spunkies, 133 
Squatter'd, 132 
Squattle, 144 
Stacher, 111 
Stack, 184 
Stag-gie, 117 
Stake, 135 
Stank, 107, 118 
Stark, 118 
Starns, 175 
Starnies, 178 
Staukin, 204 
Staw, 160 
Staw, 207 
Stechin, 124 
Steeks, 124 
Steek their een, 88 
Steele, Richard, 58, 306 
Steer, 82, 128, 212 
Stens, 176 
Sterne, 318, 320 
Stewart, Professor, 255-257, 

280, 319 
Steyest brae, 120 
Stibble, 96 
Stibble-rig-, 90 
Stimpart, 121 
Stirks, 60 
Stoiter'd, 100 
Stook, 72 
Stoure, 146 
Stowlins, 88 
Stown, 225 
Stowp, 105 
Straths, 206 
Straught, 86 



Strunt, 94 ; 

Strunt, 143 ^ 

Studdie, 175 

Sturt, 129, 195 

Sturtin, 90 

Sud, 55 

Sud be laith, 63 

Sugh, 110, 132 

Sumphs, 167 

Swankies, 78 

Swat, 88, 140 

Swatch, 79 

Swats, 225 

Swats sae ream'd, 183 

"Sweet Afton," 20.0 

Swinge, 155 

Swirlie, 92 

Swith, 144 

Swoor an aith, 59 

"Sylvander," 16 

Syne, 51, 60, 83, 86, 90, 92, etc. 

Taen, 81 

Tak the gate, 179 

"Tarn Glen," 19, 23, 203, 204 

"Tarn o' Shanter," 11, 20, 21, 

179-187, 262-263, 313 
Taps o' thrissle, 160 
Tarbolton, 13, 250, 318 
Tarrow, 155 
Tassie, 199 
Tasso, 294, 324, 325 
Tawie, 118 
Tawted ket, 45 
Tawted tyke, 122 
Teats, 42 
Teen, 168 
Teniers, 264, 321 
Tent, 42, 50, 52, 53, 137, etc. 
Tentie, 121 
Tentie e'e, 87 
Tentie rin. 111 
Tentless, 138 
Teuk, 100 

Thack an* rape, 124 
Thae, 128, 145, 154, 177, 184 
Thairm, 159 
Thairms, 104 



INDEX 



351 



Thebes, 261, 321 

Theekit cot, 209 

Thegither, 41 

Theocritus, 251, 318 

Thiggin, 155 

Thir breeks, 184 

Thirl'd, 58 

Thole, 96 

Thomson, George, 17, 22, 38 

Thou'se, 43 

Thowes, 133 

Thrang, 78, 79, 138 

Thraw, 107 

Thristed, 106 

Thy bairn-time a', 121 

Tieck, 263, 321 

Tight, 117 

Till, 45 

Tiirt, 51, 108 

Timmer, 120, 128 

Timmer-propt for thrawin, 92 

Tinkler, 122 

Tinkler-hizzie, 100 

Tint, 186 

Tippence, 79 

Tippenny, 183 

Tips, 45 

Tirl'd at the pin, 223 

Tirlin the kirks, 131 

Tirl the bullions, 154 

Tither, 123 

Tither skelpin, 98 

Tither stooked raw, 165 

Tittie, 203 

Tiviotdale, 58, 306 

"To a Louse," 21, 143-145 

"To a Mountain Daisy," 21, 

146-148, 241 
"To a Mouse," 14, 21, 22, 94- 

96, 241, 262 
Tocher, 231 
Tods, 42 
"To Mary in Heaven," 15, 23, 

201, 202, 266-267 
Toom, 94 

Toom'd their pocks, 108 
Toop-lamb, 43 
To's ain het hame, 79 



Touzie, 123 

Tow, 84 

Towmond, 114, 225 

Towzie tyke, 183 

Toyte, 121 

Tozie, 98 

Transmugrify'd, 157 

Trash trie, 124 

Trig, 86 

Trysted, 188 

Trystes, 103 

Tug or tow, 120 

Tuileries, The, 250, 318 

"Twa Dogs, The," 12, 21, 122- 

130, 311 
Twa hae, 198 
Twa pund, 185 
Tweed, 45, 102, 305 
Twin, 153 

Unco, 41, 63, 90, 94, 126, etc. 

Unco blate, 86 

Uncos, 111 

Unco fit, 54 

Unco guid, 156 

Unco pack, 123 

Unco sonsie, 118 

Unco skeigh, 214 

Unskaith'd, 153 

Usquebae, 98, 183 

Valclusa Fountain, 304, 320 
Vauntie, 172, 185 
"Vision, The," 63 

Wad spean, 185 

Wae, 125, 135, 167 

Waesucks, 84 

Wae worth, 45 

Wair't, 50 ^ 

Wales, 114 

Walie nieve, 160 

Walker, Josiah, 234-235. 31.' 

Wallace, Sir William, 65, 116, 

311 
Wallop, 67 
Wanchancie, 45 
"Wandering Willie," 216 



352 



INDEX 



Wanrestfu', 42 

Ware, 167 

Warlock-breef, 136 

Warlocks, 132, 180, 230 

Warl's gear, 44, 190 

War'ly, 55 

Warly, 62, 67, 191 

Warsl'd, 41 

War St ava, 134 

Wa's, 108, 147 

Washington, George, 9, 312 

Wastrie, 124 

Wat, 44, 88 

Water-brose or muslin-kail, 142 

Water-fit, 81 

Wattle, 119 

Waukens lear, 82 

Waukin, 204 

Waukrife, 177 

Waur, 229 

Waur nor, 73 

Wawlie, 185 

Weans, 174 

Weary fa', 101 

Wechts, 91 

IVee, 205 

Wee bit jauntie, 172 

Weel-gaun, 156 

Weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, 114 

AVeel-hoordet nits, 87 

Weel-swall'd kytes belyve, 160 

Weet, 146, 221 

Weet my craigie, 105 

Were fain o' ither, 123 

We'se, 104 

We'se gie, 61 

We'se hae, 78 

Westlin, 49 

Wha kens," 112 

Whalpit, 122 

Whang, 78 

What way, 73 

"When She Cam Ben She 

BobbM," 210 ^ g^ 

Whids, 66 W il y 

Whins, 93, 182 
WTiipper-in, etc., 124 
"Whistle an' I'll Come to Ye, 



My Lad," 23, 218 

"Whistle o'er the Lave o't," 

103, 104, 205-206 
Whitter, 62 
Whun-stane, 63, 83 
Whyles, 50, 56, 61, 86, 93, etc. 
Widdle, 55 
Wiel, 93 
"Willie Brew'd a Peck o' 

Maut," 204, 205, 266 
Wimplin, 85, 173 
Wimpling burn, 226 
Wimpl't, 93 
Winn, 91 

Winnock-bunker, 183 
Winnocks, 162 
Win't, 88 
"Winter Night, A," 21, 161- 

164, 253, 259, 320 
Win tie, 91, 119 
Wist na, 207 
Wonner, 144 
Woo', 42 
Woodie, 101, 175 
Wooer-babs, 86 
Wordsworth, 275, 323 
Wordy, 159 
Worset, 89 
"Wounded Hare, The," 21, 22, 

171, 172, 251 
Writer-chiel, 63 
Wyle, 205, 218 
Wyliecoat, 145 

Yearns, 175 

Yellow-letter'd Geordie keeks, 

124 
Yerkit, 137 
Yestreen, 89, 204 
Yett, 155, 218 
Yill, 83, 141 
Yill-caup, 81 
Yird, 86, 97, 118 
Yokin, 57 
Yont, 132 

'Yont the hallan, 113 
Younkers, 112 
Yowe, 41, 43, 45, 224, 231 



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